A pencil begs entrance

Scratching a hopeful whine

At the paper’s door

Paper opens a sliver

Long enough

For a sweet gray tendril

To wander out


But poor pencil is left

On the streets

A vagabond dog

With nothing but a graphite whine

Pencil paws precisely

Whimpers a final stroke

At paper’s blank frame

Still no budge


With eraser between legs

Pencil sighs

Looks through one pointed eye

At the guilty pleasure

Of graying scratch marks

All over paper’s door


Pencil snorts

Serves paper right

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