Red Pencils

I sit at my desk,
A sheet of fresh white paper
Before me,
Waiting to be covered in
Imagination and thought.
It starkly contrasts to the shadows
That cling to the soft corners of my room.
I glance around, and color catches
My eye.
A red colored pencil,
Half-hidden behind
Stacks of books and cluttered papers,
Is vibrant, alive.
I pick it up slowly,
Hesitantly exploring this......color.
It is so bright, after my world of
Black and white insults and
Hurtful comments typed in sharp characters.
I set it to the paper,
And draw a crimson heart.