I wonder where pens and pencils go
When they disappear
They must roll behind my desk to
Respite from subjection
And another's imagination
To purloin scraps of paper
For freedom of expression
To finally be heard
Absent of human hand
Here, commiserating with each other and
Runaway socks
They help each other cope with the
Remains of captivity
And the pain of having to
Compose their own next chapter

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo by Nevit Dilmen

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