Writing Practice
Growing up,
I had a
writing tablet with the
pen attached by a cord.
I would practice
my letters in bold,
black ink,
my tiny fist
clutched tight.
You could erase
errors by moving
a tab on the bottom.
That orange tab
would click and whoosh,
removing my reversed
bs and ds.
But yesterday’s marks
were never quite wiped clean.
I still write over
the ghosts of my mistakes,
hoping to get it right this time.
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