Very few are the possessions that live for me,
Not humans, not animals, not birds
But a slight miniature pencil
Which I’ve saved for years,
Innocently with tears…
Neither my hand, nor my mind did think of it,
Until it shadowed me day and night.
Seldom did I know I used it,
But care and lovingness prolonged…
Minute by minute, second by second
I watched it go out of my sight
When I think I’m misplacing it-
I sense it close me.
When I think I’ve misplaced it-
I perceive it before me.
That truly adorable pencil never fades away.
I compose my lovely poems with it,
I sketch the gorgeous flowers with it
Never has it gone too small to hold
As, when I really want to use, I catch a glimpse of it…
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
Very few are the possessions that live for me,
Not humans, not animals, not birds
But a slight miniature pencil
Which I’ve saved for years,
Innocently with tears…
Neither my hand, nor my mind did think of it,
Until it shadowed me day and night.
Seldom did I know I used it,
But care and lovingness prolonged…
Minute by minute, second by second
I watched it go out of my sight
When I think I’m misplacing it-
I sense it close me.
When I think I’ve misplaced it-
I perceive it before me.
That truly adorable pencil never fades away.
I compose my lovely poems with it,
I sketch the gorgeous flowers with it
Never has it gone too small to hold
As, when I really want to use, I catch a glimpse of it…
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