Pencil, Pause, and Play

A silent grid, a puzzle waits,

Nine by nine, a twist of fate.

Empty spaces call my mind,

A test of logic, time, and time.

A single digit finds its place,

A careful step, a measured pace.

Each number flows, yet holds its ground,

No twin may in one row be found.

The columns stand like pillars tall,

Their rules unyielding, firm for all.

Each box of nine, a world contained,

Where order must alone remain.

The pen moves swift, then slows again,

A moment’s doubt, a slight refrain.

One choice too bold could break the chain,

A misplaced step, a path in vain.

The dance continues, twist and turn,

Each clue a torch to help discern.

A whisper tells me, "Think once more,"

Before I lock that final score.

And when at last the grid is filled,

No rule betrayed, no spot unskilled,

A rush of triumph, deep, complete—

A battle fought, a mind at peace.

- Wiranpat ❤️