March Poetry Challenge (11th March, 2013)

Licence to Write

I remember that first day,
Feeling somehow more grown up,
That in the space of a day
I had aged exponentially.

I was putting away childish things,

Having to live with the mistakes I made,
Indelible and forever mine,
Scrawled by still small hands.

This was the day I was trusted

To hold my future in my hands,
To make my mark permanently
On a world that saw me as a child.

No longer at the mercy of broken pencils

And no longer forced to erase my errors;
I was now the proud and grown up owner
Of the most wonderful gift I had received.

In my hot little hand I held,

Ready to write the speaches and songs
That would move the world to tears,
The first of many pens I would own.

Whether the cheap and nasty variety

Or the expensive and carefully crafted,
Each would bear the expression
Of a mind finely tuned by experience.

Though the ink may occassionally run dry,

The imagination never would.
The scripts of a thousand days
Would ebb and flow in my viens;

Still, the writing would continue to flow,

Though I again would graduate
To a medium sometimes shallow and cold,
And I would never forget that old feeling …

Or that old friend of mine.