Lonely Pen
Never thought I could.
Nor I would.
Seeking my old friend.
My lonely pen.
But I did.
I found him close to dead.
Waiting with words seeping through.
Some light, some dark. Some deep blue.
I picked one of each and many.
Making a verbal salad of sour and honey.
Suit the taste of regular and freak.
Diving deep and climbing the ultimate peak.
For he is the master of words.
The supreme justice of all swords.
20/02/2024
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