Pencil Case

She keeps me in her
black canvas book bag—always
ready for afternoon errands,
day-time adventures, evening
classes, a poetry workshop, road
trip journalling or airplane flights
for freedom, fun, or family—
maybe all three

I like how She intentionally
sets me near her work
slides my zipper across my top
which always feels a little ticklely
her fingers dig, part, and
choose from my important cargo
She uses my pencils to play with words
doodle with lines and shapes
thinks out loud her thoughts on paper
and somehow she keeps the Pencils sharp
or to be sharpened—
short or long nubs and stubs
with erasers plump and worn down

occasionally a pen or marker
will invade
for I am called a Pencil case
I have learned to welcome them
I am told they bring
unique flare or utility to her work