Yesterday
I began to write
My story.
I grabbed a pencil
And drew the lines
That formed the words
To tell my tale.
A detailed history
From past to present.
Copied onto a sheet
Of the finest paper.
A paper so inspiring
By its emptiness.
Its perfectness.
Its crispness.
I wrote lightly
At first.
Terrified if I
Pressed too hard
The inspiration
Would be lost.
But the writing
Was too dull.
The faint markings
Needed to be darkened
And thickened.
So with each chapter
I added
I pressed the pencil
Harder
And harder
To the paper.
Making the words
Permanently etched.
My heart and soul
Were poured into those words
Through that pencil.
I’m going to write
Everyday
Until my story
Is done.
I only started yesterday
And the chapters
Are quickly adding up.
I have twenty-six
So far.
I wonder how many
I can add
Today.