The Gold Pen

Since, the day My fiancée left, this gold pen Was never use, it was her Gift, to me On my birthday Yes, I used it many times Writing her, poetry Of love Our happiness Our dreams Though, it has a fine Indian ink And, it writes well, I have no Intention, of using it But, I always Kept it, in my pocket, everyday Why? I don’t even know why Surely, I know she is now, the Sweet darling, of others… A catchy title, fitting Only For My sorrow, every ink drop of Her, gold pen