i'm looking at my notebook
an its looking back at me
its pages white as snowflakes
with round holes that number three
there's one red line bisecting
thirty three blue lines across
sometimes these lines are mocking me
sometimes i am the boss
and little wires run through it
guess you'd call that spiral bound
just like the little wires inside
my brain are sometimes found
the cover has a green bird
with a pencil colored red
he has some dark framed spectacles
a-perching on his head
well, i might be a bird brain
and i need a lens to read
but pencils really aren't my bag
its pen ink that i bleed
it says its made in india
they're famous for their ink
it also says its college ruled
that gives me pause to think
a pretty blue the cover
and i placed a sticker there
it advertises skateboards
not a hobby that i dare
its divided in three subjects
though its only one i pick
looks like i'm nearly two thirds done
it sure got used up quick
you'd laugh to see my scribbles
what a mess i've truly made
you'd see the boards and nails there
of my poetry displayed
even then the final product
never turns out quite the same
i'm editing while typing
seems that's just part of the game
there's some unfinished work here
it will never see the light
some trees i plant do not bear fruit
some birds do not take flight
i'm gonna take a picture
of my ratty little book
so all my faithful readers
can come in and take a look
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