This is just a scribble
A scribble of life
A line that just happens to pass through your life
A life that is just another scribble
Sadly we all know that markers, crayons, pencils run out of marks
The marks that draw out our lives
Its sad for the moment
Its sad for the rest out our scribble that is life
We never forget what passes through our line
We never pick up out pens but sometimes we just stop the motion
The motion of moving and take a second
To think of our lines
To think of others lines
To think of how their lines came and changed ours
We still have our ink
Our lead and we need to stop for this moment and pick up our pens
There is a line that found its end
But their color is in our line
A streak of their existence in ours
We will carry that streak in our line
We will let that color be in ours and let it be there forever
And with every line we come to we will bring in that other color
Then the color will be passed
This one scribble found its end but ours have not
Let us bring this end
This segment in ours but
Let the color be
Let it be in your line
Let it come into others lines
Be a scribble that outlines that scribble
Every thing will be fine because
That scribble started so many others
That we cant under stand how it changed
Our colors are much brighter with that streak of color
And that scribble is brighter because of other scribbles
And so one is two
And so on
And so on
By Marissa Hunt
For my aunt Rochelle and her friend
(The scribble)
Gloria
