My newborn pencil begins his life,
Wailing away on the page.
He scratches down with toil and strife
All I command to create.
As he ages, my friend grows weary
Of my arbitrary verse;
He dulls and discolors, and points to the sky,
Yells at me and will curse.
But as we wear together,
The lead and my sweaty palm,
The sky begins to clear
And my mind begins to calm.
We both find meaning in a simple word
(Or phrase if it’s more than two)
To be quite honest the modifiers never quite
Honor the subject: YOU. You, You!
A concept so lively and true.
Who stirs my heart, inspiring this nested bird
To take flight, forever anew.
This pencil will break…