Poem Made by Me

My Pencil

My Pencil

my long sharp pencil

the one I use to write 

with my hand in the right

where I spent my night

writing plans and poems

My pencil

Now, where is my pencil?

panickingly looking for my pencil

hurry I need to find my pencil

before I lose my thought, just like what happened to my pencil

I hold my breathe trying not to lose control

repeatedly reciting every word in my head

I look down at my bed, left and right to my desk

Where is my long sharp pencil

At last my pencil!

Now I can write the letters

On this white blank paper

steadily closely stroking up and down

underline bold italic

I sat on my chair excitedly

lay flat the piece of paper

hand tight grip

but what was it again?

the words I want to write 

with my pencil?