Poetic thoughts form onto my blank page
By hand and pencil sitting in a trance.
Lines curve, twist, and loop to erase my cage,
Gray shapes emerge full of life for a dance.
Young children scribble bold with many tools
Of vibrant colors, so that dreams are real.
Young adults calm nerves at schools with strict rules
By restless doodles in notes that appeal.
I'm both the small child and the awkward teen
Whose best friend is a pencil- my life's key.
The pencil strongly marks the gap between
My dreamland and the life set before me.
Expressive notions fill up empty space
From my two different worlds without a trace.