I want to see a bottle cap and think of its beauty,
Inner threads that weave across the bottles mouth remind me
Of the first time I held an unfamiliar hand;
Fingers intertwined in the Smithsonian.
Vibrant red coating the outside,
Once white laces turned red when tied
Would you dare think about what you’re not told to?
Curiosity driven dreaming creeping into the mundane
I’ll stare at this bottle cap until only love remains
A tangible reminder to the abstract beyond
That there is nothing but this second,
Everything else has yet to come or is already gone.
Growing up in the mountainous region of Lancaster PA, Meg has a love for nature and the metaphors that grow out of the rolling woods. She has always considered her environment a place to absorb, learn and grow from. Now a University of the Arts Graduate, Meg lives in South Philadelphia, and is spreading her roots and growing within new spaces. She is an illustrator and writer whose primary focus is on conjuring beauty from the mundane, invoking the curiosity stirring around inside all of us. With that curiosity she hopes to pull us, herself included, into the moment so that we can live life presently.