I wish to speak of a tool which is the
Intermediary
Between your mind and mine.
I choose the #2 pencil as the symbol of the process.
Humble, ubiquitous, yellow, pointy,
One would think it would be obsolete by now
But it goes on sale with the regularity of
A ticking clock when the school year rolls around.
Oh worthy pencil, sword of the classroom,
I see you worn to a stub on the hallway floor,
Sometimes stuck into the ceiling and
Hanging like a bat,
And on occasion
Tucked neatly away in a pencil case.
Conveyor of love and hate,
Weaver of trepidation and delight,
They seek to plow you into pixels.
Yet you dance away from the screen
Like a ballerina on drugs.
I salute your tenacious
Battle with extinction.
May you save yourself
And the hand that holds you.
About the Creator
Dan West
Later
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