Giver of a Voice

A dear simplistic tool 

We all were taught to grip and hold,

Utilize its vast creativity

In abilities to document, formulate, inspire

Ink will spill

Coexist

With nothing to 

Communicate, conceive, coerce.

The paper, lined in its glory

Can now utter its desperate cries,

Its whimsical tales,

Its perfected accounts

The pen lingered upon the blank

To proclaim a love note,

To deliver a story,

To articulate sheer poetry,

I grip this pen, hale its entirety 

In any utterance 

It

So

Chooses..