The Magic Pen
the pen moves as I sleep
I barely see it scratching across the notebook
But I do not care; I am exhausted.
It is way past my bed time.
My muse kept me up.
I do not open my eyes
Knowing in the morning I will hate what I see
Because the pen is the smart one in this duo
It is despicably sad
being shown up by a magic pen.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2020
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