Yellow No. 2

First starting out

As pure and fresh

Blushing pink

Atop my head

Pin-prick sharp

Chiseled face

No mistakes yet

To erase

Bright and full

Of use within

Better than

A ballpoint pen

The best of friends;

A sharpener

Brings me back

After a whir

Short on words

Becoming dull

Not much left

The season; Fall

Now, whittled down

With no point left

No. 2

No longer deft

The end draws near

Few more words said

I've reached the last

I'm out of lead