written for Phillipa Stewart
Some people come into your life and you take time to feel comfortable with them. Then, something clicks between you and that worry simply ceases to exist. When this has happened in a professional environment previously I have often been wary about how to manage my emotional responses.
The older I get, however, the less the professionalism actually matters. I crave connection and growth and development and these do not come without an exchange of honesty. This happened between Pip and me very recently and suddenly, I wish I’d been less reserved with them sooner.
Pip’s attention to detail extends into both her art and her professionalism. I don’t think anyone else has inspired me as much artistically in quite some time. Again, I have a poem here that is saying things I’ve never really spoken out loud before, which is a surprise.
Pencil Sketches
as I sit in contemplation
on an app full of strangers
some of whom may in time become
more than an abstract of friendship
I see your drawings need to do the same
pencil sketches of my life and times
Mulberry Street a July weekday evening
and the city that never sleeps
is breathing a perfect rhythmic pace
as is a heart that wants to die here
needs their ashes spread across the Hudson
I draw a second home I cannot be pulled from
3am in California and I can't sleep
we're going home in the morning
and I am lost I ache with the yearning
this inside defined cannot stay the same
something major has to alter
I must sketch more into this daughter
late evening on the Italian coastline
I have had a meltdown so harsh
the fillings in my teeth are hurting
to extract the broken bits of me
finally to send them on their way
I pencil in more therapy
Thursday morning at a park in Chalkwell
everything returns to where it once began
your aid this composition back in place
narrative of fall and rise from grace
a little Universe of time and space
outlined redefined from that which I have drawn
Poem copyright S. Reeson © 2026
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