I hear the scritch-scritching of a bristle brush against the nap of the canvas
The tinkle of metal against glass
The tap, tap, tapping of rims.
She had asked me to outline a princess that she could paint.
I took the canvas and a pen and drew something unremarkable.
After I was done she thanked me and was silent.
More tinkling of brush to glass. More scritch, scritch, scritching of paint on canvas.
Her color slowly obliterates my line.
Tinkle, tap, scritch, scritch ...
This is the sound of growing up.