In a compass box,
There was a beautiful pairing,
If one made a mistake,
The other was there for correcting.
One was the pencil,
Sharp, slim and tall,
Other was an eraser,
Fair , chubby and small.
The pencil was mostly busy,
Always twisting , turning and writing,
The eraser sat in a corner and stared
Often doing nothing.
For every mistake of pencil,
The eraser had to sacrifice a bit,
It lost some part of itself,
Inorder to correct it.
©navi07
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