The Pencil (9-24-03)

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The pencil taps upon the paper.
The paper as clear as the sky.
It taps, waiting for words,
Words that will paint a detailed picture,
Words that will cure an ailing mind,
Words that will lead a lost heart.
It taps, waiting for these words,
But the pencil is blank like the paper,
Only staring upwards into the heavenly blue dome.

Copyright 2003 Danny Caballero

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