Swish! Swish!
The sound her scissors made as she cut papers.
Never had I seen her eyes sparkle with so much fire. Straight or curved, she drew every line with concentration,
Her face glowing from admiration,
Proud of what her little hands had made after so much clatter.
Only then did I realise why she was not thrilled at the mention of blood and plaster,
For every line she drew gave her so much joy and laughter.
One word it was for all she did at leisure. Passion.
For everything she did, with so much pleasure.
