A Pencil I Am Poem by alex sarich
A Pencil I Am
Rating: ★5.0
A pencil I can be
rough on the edges
they sharpen me
left on the ledges
wood and lead
no heart, brain to live
soft and smooth instead
no more to give.
I shave no more
show me the door
I'm a splinter
spring to winter
leaves only shavings
end up on pavings
snapping all the time
was once in my prime.
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5/5/2024 12:50:52 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Such a nice piece of work, Alex sarich. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.