Happy Birthday (my friend)

I remember
paintings
larger than life
bold, bright colors
everywhere
in contrast to the quiet house

Dreary
Seattle days
found you
hands stuffed in jacket pockets
wavy blonde hair dancing
down the street – though not
like the affected young Harkness dancers
who advertised their artistry
striking a pose along the seaside

Married, yes
and a little boy’s
mother – but

I know you
as so much more

Reaching out
and in – touching the
past – seeking the future

Person and Artist
full of such magic
hiding (sometimes) from who you are
or maybe blinded by your own brilliance.

My friend.