A sketchbook

A new sketchbook, a hundred pages and more, fresh for graphite and concept, fresh for ink and final thoughts.
Pages of soft curl, moistened by the humid reach of Oregon rain.
Soft, joyous cream, pages warm and pleasing.
A hundred doors and more, places of what could be, of fanciful flight and moments warm, of soft summer days yet to come, of winter nights in reflective solitude.

A hundred stories yet to tell, a passage void to explore, by leisure and desire, that all may see a one-day created light.

A hundred pages, and all the maybes and forevermores, in all unbridled tomorrows.

A hundred, yours.

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