Oh my pencil, I love it so much!
Watching it waltz across the paper,
Leaving figure 8’s and all the
Letters and numbers you can think of.
The way it jumps to end the
sentence with a period.
Quietly, it dances over the paper,
leaving a trail of my thoughts behind.
It is speechless, yet says so much.
It is a recorder, a writer, a poet.
One side a constructor…making new things.
The other like a magician…making things disappearOne side is like a little kid,
making a mess.
While the other is the mother,
cleaning things up and fixing mistakes.
It is speechless, yet says so much.
It is a recorder, a writer, a poet.
One side a constructor…making new things.
The other like a magician…making things disappearOne side is like a little kid,
making a mess.
While the other is the mother,
cleaning things up and fixing mistakes.
Always ready to transfer my every
thought to paper.
Though sometimes it invades my paper
as if it has a mind of its own.
It is a simple, yet beautiful tool.
It accompanies me on every creative journey,
on every task I puzzle through.
It brings a blank sheet of paper to life.
You are a servant to my hand,
but the king of all words.
That pearly pink top,
and that fine tip point.
You may break eventually,
but the words you create
will never die.
Apeksha Kanumilli, copyrighted April 26, 2013
(One of my daughter’s poems)
Romancing Life 