Fruit of the Pen

My underwear is Fruit of the Loom You're welcome for that mental sight Anyway, I thought that seemed poetic To me then, fruit of the pen seems right What fruit juice then, spurts from my pen You might just hesitate to think Juice that could be sweet or downbeat That flies but then falls in the sink But whether my dribble is a scribble Or a comparative master piece Most of the time I find a rhyme And wonder if wonders never cease!