She would get lost 

Mesmerised 

And fall in love 

All over again

Whenever she would see him 

Holding the pencil

As if it were a soul 

He was embracing 

Through the fine lines

He would make with the black lead

His eyes would be glued

Transfixed to the slender sharp lead

And the white paper

Which would in no time

Transform into a masterpiece of his 

The chemistry he has with the pencil 

Is unparallel, she would tell herself 

Yet

He would leave his masterpieces unfinished

She knew why 

It was unsaid

The promise that he would get back

Next day

For the final strokes 

And end the masterpiece for a new one