I see my mind.
My own mind is a drawing mind.
I see my mind, my drawing mind.
In my mind I see Cezanne.
I see Degas. I see Matisse.
I see my own paintings
in my mind, my artists’ mind.
Even the ones that I did so long ago
that I had forgotten about,
Those paintings are still in my mind.
I have a friend in my own mind.
Since my mind cleared up
I have a paper in my mind
that mirrors me.
So now I am free now.
I found something that doesn’t cost anything.
Everyone says I look so happy.
I tell them why,
“I have found my own mind,”
I tell my daughter.
“There is a paper in my brain attached to my heart.
I found that!”
“That’s good mom,” she says,
Not knowing what I mean.
So I can say inwardly, to myself,
“I can say that it happened to me.”
I don’t know how or why, but
Now I have a friend in my own mind,
whose different than me,
but who I see.