. . . and aren’t you glad
I think to myself
so many written
and left behind
abandoned
or poorly finished
for various reasons
I dismissed them
rough-sanded and limping
or torn apart left immobile
sometimes when I go
back and visit
I’ll see one wheel-chaired
staring from across the street
and think about crossing
to say hello
and if I did
what would happen
if I pulled out my pen