A Pencil I Am
I am a
pencil.
I wonder
what I look like when I’m little.
I hear
children talking to the teacher.
I see all
these words like me, I, am, people, and next.
I want to be
used, but not too much.
I am all
graphite and wood.
I pretend to
be real.
I feel
smooth.
I touch a
lot of paper.
I understand
some of the words on each page.
I say, “Stop!”
I don’t want to be used and get too small.
I dream I
live forever.
