Happy Ink

Weary are the pens of writing unseen verse, Their lives aren’t what they’d hoped for and they feel it’s getting worse. The day that saw them made is a day they can’t forget, Their maker scooped them up and held them tightly to his breast. ‘My pens, my pens, you truly are my best creation yet! Each one of you shall conquer life, great things you can expect! You’ll help to shape the words of kings and authors loved and famous, Your work with them shall never die, Forever entertain us!’ So with a loving hand the maker placed the pens in cases, Then shipped them off in packaging to a number of different places. With adventure in their inky hearts they travelled far and wide, Facing up to every fear with that knowledge safe inside. The knowledge that purpose lived and breathed, The thoughts their father helped conceive. Beyond his life the pens survived and right until the day he died, The pens knew not the burning fire, Their father was a bare-faced liar. Many others shared their dream, To be the first pen of the queen, And hoped and prayed and wished the same, Careers of pure success and fame. But not a drop of fame they found, Instead a thought was picked and bound, Securely fastened in the ground. The thought was present inside each pen, Though hidden would awaken when, The pens were near to one another, Togetherness had been uncovered! The key to happiness they found that day. Togetherness is the only way.