The Pen

The pen has been my friend lately, With my fingers itching in ticks of the clock, Scribbling hard lose in fury of haste, In pursue to pick my ability back as To lean on the untold intuitions of the world. The pen has been my friend lately, My hands with patches of spilled inks, Empty refills stacked as bee fills, Thoughts flew as vast as sea, Letters blew as specks of dust.