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Poem
Tears of sorrow flow as rivers from my eyes
while I put my pens and pencils away
to never to grace a page again
small cardboard box their final place of rest.

Why such sadness, I know not
maybe it is saying goodbye to a friend,
one who understood me so fully 
let me crawl around inside myself.

Quite possibly this was only beginning 
knowing this elusive person within
with desire to learn so much more
now, I suppose, I will never know.

Pencils are stowed and left to grow old
wooden shafts left to age into dry mottled dust
and pens’ indigo liquid destined to vanish
leaving only an empty plastic shell.

With only these remnants left to remind 
of thoughts and emotions once scribed
now evoke within me a dark depressing thought
of words I might have penned.

Aged and grey some distant day to come
in my favorite chair, a rocker, I sit
staring vacantly through cataract coated eyes
thinking of what things might have been.

Many a responsibility have I neglected
while traveling within my mind
give cause for your final sentence of death
unfair since you merely exist that is all.

So now I must grow-up once more 
youthfulness again lost to reason and logic
bliss of carefree imagination is gone
fading in clarity to a distant rare thought.

Now the small coffin is cradled in my arms
destined for fiery and complete destruction
I ponder consequences of the acts to follow
as a question of fidelity comes to mind.

I do not aspire to arrogant fame and fortune
only seek to escape my own worldly bonds
these some-day artifacts of this life past
have been forever faithful to me.

Now to my desk I return the small box
carefully filled with priceless treasure
pens and pencils returned to their niche
never to stray long from my hand.

From this moment forth, I do profess
this gift bestowed not to be squandered
for anyone endowed with even a token of skill
mortally wounds their soul if suppressed.

(Edited and retitled from a previously submitted poem)
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