In the Classroom

She placed the pencil in my hand Remarkable was this tool It's many uses It's single purpose This yellow piece of wood Upon my desk she placed A single sheet of paper Laying flat and still  Marked with lines of blue and red Enthusiasm filled the room Listening with wonder My curiosity awoken Provoking my thoughts But not in a blunder She taught the lesson Knowledge absorbed Ideas conceived By a poetic allured  Approaching the pencil With a delicate touch Striking the paper With elegant force Well constructed My words were molded Abstraction was perfection Every stanza was a strophe  My thoughts were blocked My pencil was halt Frustration took it's turn Inspiration needed But nothing assisted  My mind was burning coal Dim ideas were all I had Nothing to overthrow them Devising began its reign  A resolution had overruled Lucid was this masterpiece  Portraying my passion acquired Freely expressed In simplistic ways Poetry had I adored Satisfaction is my prize For success is valued most I was only ten With little to offer  Poetry gave me hope The complications  Merely a journey All put in a test These words I create Are not for caption These words are Bold with truth Yesterday I thought I'd write today For tomorrow is another day