The lead has worn down on my pencil
It means breaking another one in.
As you see by my picture,
I don’t know where to begin.
He’s been with me for a while now,
I’ve chewed the end ’til I’m sick.
Somehow I neglcted to notice,
You see I sharpen him quite a bit.
This pencil has been a good friend,
It’s lead it promised to last.
I can secrete it inside my stocking,
At parties it even gets past.
Now so small it looks very lonely,
Not big enough to take one more word.
It can’t go in the rubbish
Or be put in a nest by a bird.
So i must always keep it,
Safe in a drawer it will stay
Until my yellow one can be trusted
To never get in the way.
A drop of silliness you may say, but for a while I believed the…
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