Prompt: You are a pencil without an eraser….
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Ticonderoga Lament
Alas! A wretched implement am I
Who scratch black marks upon this barren leaf
These smudgy tracks, they make me weep and sigh
And graphite tracks are emblems of my grief.
.
Oh, that I could be crowned with rubber fair!
A noble coronet to grace my head!
The firm and pink-hued cap I’d gladly wear,
Mistakes would then be naught that I should dread.
.
Efface these opaque lines and make them clean!
Leave dainty, rosy shavings in my wake!
A gentle puff of breath leaves all pristine,
All errors would I thus with ease unmake!
.
My gaffes cannot be fixed. I must grow baser.
I rue the day I lost my dear eraser.
.
What I was reading at the time:
Shakespearean and Petrarchian sonnets
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