Bouquets of Sharpened Pencils

Whenever I sharpen pencils
It calls to mind a phrase:
“Bouquets of sharpened pencils”
 And tears spring into my eyes
At the memory of
Onscreen chemistry
And a true
Love story
Problems and all
 
But somehow
They overcame
And not a sound could be heard
But the beating of
My own heart
As she smelled the daisy
Accepted it
Accepted him
 
And the flood of emotion
I experience each time I watch that movie:
The joy
The pain
The aching longing
For that kind of
Sweet love
A love of my own
Is all evoked by
The woody smell
Whenever I sharpen pencils