my pencil
My pencil
———
Line by line
It travels your face
Line by line
It recognizes your wakes
To start
It traces
To continue
It always searches
In the lesser details
It discovers
All the ” stitches ”
And, the door opens…
The stitches that were missing
Is the key needed
To open the door
Of your secret garden
My pencil
A miracle
Not an obstacle
But a passion
Passion for a life
Empty of ambition
Stifled without reason
By stupidity, by inertia
Inertia is a vice
Devoid of any smile
Where the sun cannot survive
In a heart in delirium
Cutting the bridges
Which connects to this madness
That denies life
And all its medallions
That was my secret
The ” stitches ” that were missing
The key needed
For happiness newly found
And, line by line
—————–
With my pencil
I recognize your face
While searching my village
And finding my home !
ArtPoetry&Literature 