When the Pen Flows

The pen made contact, With the blank canvas, My grip still intact. But soon, The restless mind made the pen flow, As I lost the track of time, It made the black in the white glow. The pen took my hand for a ride, As it ventured on its own , Making loops, doodles with a sudden slide. I woke up to the sway of wind chime, It calmed the mind, The slow breeze, the sun at prime. I saw the mess I made, Which was quite hard to erase So I left it in the shade. I started a new line, This time, the pen in my control, I hope, this turns out fine.