Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
The way your pencil moves along the rough surface lightly at first as if it's floating just above it. The lines barely visible like footprints where fresh snow has fallen. The lines darken and take shape, your hand working more diligently now. The pencil racing across the vast landscape that is your paper, everyone who sees the result is amazed. But to you.....they're just lines on paper
Travis Durston
Written by
Travis Durston  London
(London)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems