Unheard, my pencil fell to the ground,
Full of the words I thought I’d write,
Wood splintered and crushed,
Graphite became dust
As my tires aggravated its plight.
As the pencil was pummeled,
The eraser from fitting was thrown
And laid in the gutter
Away from the clutter,
Beginning a life of its own.
So if it seems I am speechless,
As if I had nothing important to say,
I’d write if I could,
But the prospects aren’t good.
I’ve lost my pencil today!