Pencil
Oh! pencil,
you are rough,
each time,
I use you,
you protest,
do a little good work,
and then thicken,
like a married woman,
no longer ready to be wooed,
how I wished you stayed sharp,
and let me use you like a sword,
you do not know your worth,
you can change grief to mirth,
and mirth to death,
your tip is the nucleus,
of this world,
it has my ideas and mind,
you lead them to space,
so please do not loose shape,
even if I badly do scrape.
Copyright © Shishir Gupta | Year Posted 2006
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