Pencil and Pen
by Dawn Schout

The loop in his cursive L doesn’t know
where to go.
He writes in pencil,
the words fading
with time, with overuse.
Smudges, eraser marks
cover lined paper in easy
to misinterpret prose.

The bottom of her e is rooted
to an imaginary line.
She writes in pen,
each word crisp
and clear as the sunflower
on her bright white stationery.
No scribbles,
no changes.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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