(Cambodia)
This morning my pencil stretched into towers,
tall and pointed,
like hands folded in prayer.
It drew the Royal Palace first,
all gold and graceful,
its spires shining even in simple grey lines.
Then the pencil slowed,
etching faces into stone—
gentle, smiling,
as if the ancient temples had never forgotten
how to laugh with the wind.
A secret came:
the Silver Pagoda’s floor
is covered with thousands of silver tiles,
so many that even the ground
glimmers like treasure.
I traced them softly,
feeling as though my pencil
had found coins hidden in the page.
When I signed the corner,
the temple smiles seemed wider,
and the pencil hummed—
as if echoes of Angkor were still alive
in the tip of its lead.
✨ If your pencil found a temple, what blessing would it sketch first?
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