A good erase leaves only minimum trace,
Slowly and steadily rubs with no force,
No chemicals are added on the surface,
To bleach or highlight the blemish,
A sheet full of watery letters,
Vividly seen then, no more now,
This eraser never gets shortened,
After many months of hard work,
Wiping away the dirt and hurt,
Can’t imagine a pitiful life without it,
During the process of erasing out,
Sometimes gratitude is removed,
Without knowing of its effect,
In the hearts of people who helped,
The eraser does its job perfect,
Without any needed rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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