The Pencil Poem by Corey Culler
The Pencil
This pencil lies so still,
the world it draws will never fill,
with these dreams I put to rest,
thoughts that lay on my chest
On dark days I put it to work,
filling the paper with whatever may lurk,
in the depths of my mind,
and whatever I may find
This pencil, I view it as a key,
a treasure chest of things so free,
but I have another mishap,
and my pencil snaps
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 11:26:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
