My Pencil

Our minds clashed at the thought of it

The thought of rejection

Your mind began to wander; a gloomy silence set in

A spark, a flash-the anticipated lightning bolt sting

A pencil in hand, a plan in mind

We set to work on the possible future

Reliable and dull

Mechanisms of motor cognition

A solid foundation

Method of articulation and clarity

Yet, a way to take it all back

The seriousness of your face; deep crevices set deep with worry

The wrinkle of a smiling eye; gleaming teeth and rose pinched cheeks

Cold tears of sadness, later heated by embraces of love

A whirl of emotions; variations of color

Set upon by the pencil nestled comfortably within your hand

A conversation worth having

Worries aren’t even within mind; only small imprints left

Grounded, and rubbed within the smudges of the paper

Done so, by the clarity and scrutiny of your voice;

Through the vicious end of that pencil

The sharp point of a pencil; the sharpness of you mind

Dull, and rounded with use; the lineage of dependency

Yet persistently supportive, no matter its condition

Voice of reason and method; first lady of our house

You are my pencil-my pride