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Pencil Dust [revised] (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer
The tune of sorrow speaks of tomorrow in a lampshade casting light on a dark empty street. The sign of defeat painted on the feet of a beggar. His brown coat floats over worn boots; the roots of poverty. His footsteps speak a tale of pale bones that lie lonely in the middle of the road. A young fool goads the old man to a duel of words hung on the cords of electricity hanging across the globe. Beneath the old man's robe is a pen, rusty and covered in a layer of dust. The young man's pocket held a pencil stolen from the school repository.

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xxx68.164.242.1510June 5, 2005 11:16 AM PDT
Anonymous147.226.179.16810January 20, 2004 1:21 PM PST
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Lifeboatman202.57.106.748July 31, 2003 12:35 AM PDT
Below lie old votes
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