When I was a child, one day my dad came to me,
‘‘I've got something for you, my boy, '' He says,
‘‘you'll need them throughout your life.''
Quite inquisitive, I looked at them—
A pencil, a sharpener and an eraser.
I got the ball rolling right away, drawing on the wall.
‘‘He'll be an artist, you see.'' Dad declares to mom.
Gradually, I began to understand the differences between leads.
I preferred 3B pencil. ‘‘Don't use it much; you'll make a mess, ''
He tells me, ‘‘You can use it when you are big.''
Still I used that. And, struggled to erase my mistakes.
I tried harder, and, out of the blue, the page went torn.
I am a big boy now—a man.
I have written lots and lots of pages.
There are many words in the pages I left behind—
life, love, success, failure, food, break-up, boredom, death, sex,
marriage, divorce, deceit, day, night, internet, job, money, memory,
traffic, transport, frustration—hell of a lot, I'm sick and tired
of writing those again and again.
But I still write. Writing with a pencil with one hand and
holding the sharpener and eraser with the other.
‘‘For a good start you need to sharpen your pencil well
beforehand.'' Daddy used to say, I remember.
I do and I only use 3B for the final touch. I don't wanna make
a mess. Now I understand, eraser always can't erase everything,
Can it?
Rahad Abir
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pencil-sharpener-eraser/