I'm still usable.
Worn near to the nub,
but still scratching out truth
while digging for freedom
in the earth of the page.
Still giving my lead
in the hope of striking gold
under the next word.
Still sharpening,
though I near the end
of my utility.
I can no longer erase mistakes.
All that emerges remains--
the chosen and the regretted.
I'm wearing away,
giving all I have
in shavings and syllables.
2 comments:
So sad and hopeful at the same time! It makes me teary.
pencils where always my favorite when they got to that size. I felt like they had proved themselves to be good usable pencils and deserved to be held on to and used until the very end. (we also liked to see who could use the shortest pencil, so it was a win win for me.)
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