How I Write

My pencil dulls while I write and write.

Only my paper is fully in sight.

I could write for days and nights, while I write and write.

My pencil goes on scribbling, which I find addicting, and I go on, pencil directing.

I wrote ‘til three pages were crumpled and wrote on,

“I wish I could go on!”

But it all came to a stop, and my pencil dropped.

My eyes were opened wide, as my hand ached,

“Is there anything else I can make?”

I knew there was, and I thought and thought, until my thinking came to a stop.

“A poem!”

I got it!

So, I sought paper, and a pen.

I didn’t know if THIS was ever gonna end.

There I again wrote away, wrote away another day.

And that is where THIS poem makes way.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *