Paper Playmates

When I was younger

I would make drawings of people

Every part of them was an oval

From their bodies and head

To their arms with graphite scratches

For each finger

These people would rise from the paper

And we would play in a world of my creation

In rustic woods or futuristic domes

And then I got better and the drawings

Were more realistic but less

And less

Would they rise off the page until

One day they wouldn’t move at all

But they never did it was just a

Metaphor for growing up.