She collected erasers and kept them
In a small tin box under her bed
Thick grey ovals and rich pink rectangles
Graphite tarnished or pristine
Some that looked like little creatures
Or rich full fruit
Arranged so delicately
Little rolled lints of rubber flecking the bottom
Of the small tin box
Silently, with every new addition, she would
Rearrange them making a space
For the new small blue, big yellow or slightly used unicorn
So satisfied with the smooth density
Her tin box was heavy
With her ability to correct any mistake
She kept them all safe
Her little fingers lingering on the box lid
As she slides it back under her bed
No comments:
Post a Comment