PEN

PEN At first, it was just another pen A ballpoint, as is called by some Not one in that old clear plastic But shiny metal, looking fantastic A present, as fancy as they come Quite the classy image back then That silvery glint in my top pocket And a perfect weight in my hand I used it for all my college work And if ever I lost it, I’d go berserk All avid students will understand It was my thing, so don’t mock it Over time, it became my identity Still as the messenger of my writing My signature in places I had to sign Unique, clearly to know it was mine Then creative stuff became exciting On the page, words flowed rapidly I replaced the refills, always black In my life it was a solid workhorse I held it up to point, for emphasis It was a poor performer’s nemesis As detailed in my notes of course A reliable instrument I’d never lack From the first day that I was hired I wielded that pen just like a sword The barrel shone, the clip was strong No smudging and never went wrong Given a new gold pen by the Board A parting gift when we both retired