Imagination

Some days I let you go wandering.
Born out of my stare, you leave me vacant
as you scale the walls of the classroom,
bashing against its bare surface
in search of a window, of a color,
of a world outside four walls,
that I’ve read between two covers.

I miss you, my imagination
who speaks for me,
who leaves paint on the walls
that only I can see
and watch dry into distant memory.