Sunday, June 3, 2012

Writing with pencils

The smooth sensation of graphite on paper

The ballpoint has nothing on this

It runs like a snake

Smooth and hissing

As my words and thoughts and fears

Come to life and send

A thrill of unequal measure

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Pausing I tap the end on the table

Back and forth and smile

At the small pink reassurance

That makes the whole process bearable

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