Broken Pencil

Writing my thoughts, and paying the penny
with a pencil, full of life, full of meaning
as I express my love... scratch that
as I long for her touch... scratch that
scribble scribble scribble, tat tat
the pencil flips upside down, right side up
seeing its mistakes, and learning
by erasing to start over... tat... tat... tat...
again; like I who moves on to forgive by forgetting.

A snap can turn my life around
and it breaks the pencil in two
I quickly glance at my Skagen
to determine how much time will be wasted
between sharpening my pencil and finding a new one
I sit there, my thoughts held up in suspense
as I glance at the useless device of my life
The point that pencil lost
its life, now taken from it; rendering it meaningless.

If you fail to understand how my pencil and I
coexist on paper, then you missed the point;
and you are no different from I and my broken pencil.
Instead of searching for a new life
like so many do, taking forever in the process;
I go to sharpen my pencil; hone its usefulness
and bring back the point,
the purpose we so desperately need.

Once more, as before, I write; learning to control
the emotions that caused my erring in the first place.
My life story continues, and only one reaction is invoked:
Next penny, please...
scribble scribble scribble, tat tat.