(inspired by my friend Sherri. :) )
She spoke of pens and I heard mine call
“Hey! Over here!” cried the ones on my desk in the old frosting tub.
Even the ones tucked in the drawer could be heard,
“Why ya gotta be so mean? Take us out! Let us feel some love!”
It’s a weakness of mine, I confess,
my pens create a palette, a jumbled rainbow of hues
And metalics, and glitters, and plains, To match
any mood or emotion I might want to write down, like if I’m blue.
I have a pen for that.
Because you never know what color you’ll feel, like yellow or pink,
And the pen has to match how I feel.
She spoke of writing and pens and of course, that also means ink.