The Waiting Pencil

The Waiting Pencil She lived in another world Where typewriters cast too much And computers were a century away Still she wrote books and poems Millions of words for people to read Each one scratched on a sheet of paper Wood and graphite became magic And her touch brought them to life Even now everyone knows what she had to say Some have memorized her every word And her pencil Her magic wand still rests on her paper Waiting for her to return To write just one more word