many years ago when she was small,
she had ruined cinderella with
markers and crayons.
the steady lines of lead were invisible,
and in her head,
she regretted
all of it.
because that was the last art
she had ever remembered him
giving her.
but sitting at a table
many years later,
tears came to her eyes.
but she didn't want to cry.
she was grinning and laughing,
and staring at the page.
a drawing of edward,
plain as day.
