Poem # 46- Pen

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I glance my blank paper,
Skimming the empty spaces
I rushly get my dearest pen—
Battering ink through its faces.

As my hand unravels the energy,
Riding and gliding with my fellow pen
A dwindling force came flowing down—
Into the filling white.

And I continue from what I'm doing,
Whilst melodic words opted to appear
Just like a synchronizing orchestra—
And the conductor is my pen.

Until I finish it— the last stanza— the last few words
It's now done, and for sure it wouldn't be absurd!
The words— the picturesque words encoded in this lone pad
I slowly send, and I abruptly stand!

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