Look at my pen
Look I can pay you if you want
It’s got weary scribbling soulless words
The last drop of ink that’s left
Seems wary.
The pen’s old; has lost
Its sheen, its agility
It has writ pages after pages but
They mean nothing
They are there just as
Shadows at night
I mean they mean nothing
Want to buy some inspiration.
Can you help?
Just tell me where I can find some.
I sought here and there
Within and without; but
Nowhere I got one.
Just tell me what place it is
Where I can find just one little thought
Worthy of being shaped, crafted and lent a life!
It’s a pity
That it knows
It’s got that lives forever
Yes, my pen knows it!
Alas! But it not knows
The trick that could transform
It’s fluidity into immortality!
What? What are you pointing at?
No comments:
Post a Comment