I Pick Up a Pen
Cartoons and packages, gum stuffed on a box,
Staplers, and fluffy hats, blue yarn full of knots,
A dying rose, stuck tight to the wall,
An overgrown zebra, quite tired and tall.
It’s a pickle I’m in,
It’s a consternation to me,
How my room could be so ridiculous,
So crazy, and free.
I pick up a pen, and I begin to write,
Hoping to forget everything I see in my sight.
I pick up a pen, and turn myself into another being,
I am magical now, a superbly-seeing.
I can fly,
I can flee,
I can growl,
I can hit.
I am a new person,
Imagine it!
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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