Craft Day

Deep in the folds of my brain,

A light turns on; it's faint.

And glowing, warm, and weaving,

Growing like a spill of paint.

It carries an energy,

Sending sparks down my body,

Filling me with a slow rumbling

Of pure excitement, embodied.

It turns my eyes into twinkling stars,

And reaches the edges of my brain

I erupt slowly with fireworks

With joy, I can't contain.

It's craft day and I'm alive,

Creative juices ever-flowing

My fingers become nimble again

As I pull paint and molds and resin

Every project I've managed,

And every budget I keep,

Spared me the creativity needed,

To craft wide and craft deep.