February 3, 2010
pencils, scratching
eraser, rubbing
pastels, soaring
fingers, smoothing
flying over the paper
the smooth, white paper
the crisp, clean paper
the paper speaks to
my pencil
the paper speaks to me
decorate me, it cries
sketch and color
adjust and rub
smooth the colors
smooth out the lumps
make a face
an angular face
smiling mischievously
with long red locks
give her strange blue eyes
and curving black brows
a sharp little nose
and circles around her
look, the paper says
look, you are done
look at what you have created
what we have created
look at this
and think
look at this
and wonder
look at this
and tell the world

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