A crayon and a pencil met on a desk
Upon the drawing sheets white
The crayon was with a gang of friends
The pencil was a lonely sight
Neither of them looked happy nor glad
They were sulking on the white floor
When they finally saw each other
Their eyes gleamed with an envious glow
The crayon looked at the lead pencil
Who was lanky with a sharp front
Then he looked at his own image
Which was short, stout, and blunt
The pencil in the corner of his eye
Looked at the crayon quite bright
With a paper suit and colourful tone
And a gang of friends matching right
They both sourly sulked again
And thought of their own lives
“All the others are better than me”
They both thought with a sigh
Then came a gentle hand
That held the pencil firm
And drew across the white sheet
Steady lines and artistic curves
Crayons blended and shaded
Inside the pencil lines
When the work was completed
Emerged an expressive design
The pencil and the crayon looked at each other
And smiled in happy delight
They read the apparent moral
Painted on the paper sheets white
Never look down on yourself
‘Cos you’re unique in your own way
A distinct piece of the puzzle
We’re trying to solve night and day