Author: Anomarilius Hao
Earlier this week, something reminded me of the scent of a new box of coloured pencils. This piece was inspired by that initial moment of opening a box of coloured pencils and the excitement it brings to colour in a new book as well.
The Breath of Colouring
1
The metal case unlatches clean;
A modest click, a sudden trace
Of cedar, sugar, something green,
Compressed within that narrow space,
Then loosened softly near my face.
2
Fresh sharpening releases more,
A darker sweetness from the grain;
The painted fragments reach the floor;
Red, violet, blue in splintered stain,
While cedar lingers in the brain.
3
A colouring book, unopened, lies,
Still crisp with paper, glue and ink;
Its clean new scent begins to rise
and makes me hesitate and think
Before its spaces start to shrink.
4
The pleasure gathers in the wait,
Too quiet to disturb the air;
The page has not accepted fate
Until I choose what settles where
and which pale spaces I will spare.
5
When pencil finally marks the white,
Its rasp moves softly, dry and slow;
The scent remains, both clean and slight,
Beneath the colours as they grow—
The part no finished page can show.
