A Pencil and a Book

In the hallowed halls of college, Where dreams bloomed like wildflowers, I walked with a pencil in my pocket, And a book cradled close to my heart. My friends, oh dear companions, We laughed under ancient oaks, Shared secrets in dimly lit libraries, And danced through midnight exams. The pencil whispered courage, Its graphite etching hope on paper, While the book held worlds within— A passport to realms beyond reality. We scribbled notes in margins, Doodled love stories and equations, And when life felt too heavy, We leaned on each other's metaphors. But as the seasons spun their yarn, And we crossed the threshold to university, Some friends faded like ink on old pages, Their chapters end abruptly. They chose different paths, Grew distant, their laughter echoing. In distant corridors of memory, Like faded bookmarks left behind. Yet my faithful pencil remained, Its lead unyielding, marking time, And the book—oh, that cherished tome— Still whispered tales of resilience. For in solitude, I found solace, The pencil sketching new beginnings, The book unraveling narratives, As I wove my own story, ink by ink. So here's to the pencil and the book, My steadfast companions through it all, Their silent presence a reminder: True friends need no spoken words. And though others may change their ways, I'll forever treasure these faithful allies, For they've etched their lines upon my soul, A timeless ode to friendship's enduring grace.