The Harpist

I was not the Harpist’s pencil.

In his box of various pencils

I was neither the sharpest

‘nor’ the harpist’s.

Truth be told,

I had been borrowed

many moons before

by the harpist –

from the cellist –

and, although possession

is ninety percent of the law,

a pencil-sharpener wouldn’t go amiss once in a while,

and I consider that the harpist

should be charged with neglect –

he is, I have noticed,

highly strung

and lacking substance

and style.

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