Confessions of a sketch pad.

I get carried around,
Everywhere she goes.
In case she gets an idea,
For a picture, a doodle.

I just wait around doing nothing,
For her to get that itch,
The one that makes her,
Pick up a pencil and draw.

Waiting, waiting.
Is she going to open me yet?
I'm getting impatient.
I need to do something.

My purpose is be of use to,
someone who wants to put pencil,
To paper and draw, that is all.
That is my confession.