Sunday, January 8, 2012

Number 2 Pencil

Shavings curl around in the cup
of a sharpener as it whirrs and grinds.
The scent of wood and lead throws me.
I’m ten again and next in line.

6 comments:

Ann said...

I so get this, Judy!

Peggy said...

Oh this is a good one, Judy! Funny how smells can take you back.

Shersim said...

And next in line. Love it!

Mary said...

Ah yes, there was something so very cool about sharpening pencils. All kids love it.

Laurie Kolp said...

You had me right behind you!

Victoria said...

I can smell the pencil sharpening process from your poem and feel the pencil warm and sharp in my hand. This is a real feel good poem for me and well crafted.