the new yorker
July 7, 2012
“may i call you miss rosen?”
she asks as we sat in her office
high above times square.
and me, humble and proud and awkward and happy and scared.
she continues,
“rosen is german.
it means roses.”
her eyes sparkle and shine like she sees something i don’t.
Very nice poem. Did you make the drawing too
thank youu ~*~
i do not currently produce visual art. if you are curious about what i create, please read the “about” page.
Just wondering because it is such a beautiful piece and really fit the poetry. Almost like it was made for it,,
thank youu ..
sometimes i write for images, sometimes i find images for words. i was looking at this drawing and i was just going to title it “miss rosen” and leave it be and that’s when i remembered that moment and i’m sure i’ve told the story a few times, but when i wrote it as a poem, it is only then that understanding could be realized ..