by Carline Francois

Created on: June 11, 2009

Poetry: My Pen

Today I am dressed in purple. My matching cap is on. Ready for

the adventures that await me on the smooth surface of something

made from bark of wood. My master calls it paper.

My master loves to use me. I think I'm his favorite one. Anyway, it

is always comforting to know that he uses me carefully and doesn't

bite my head off. Like other masters do. He doesn't loose my cap either.

He is caring that way.

Now I'm in my master's hand. I don't know what is on his mind today.

Lately though, he has been using me to take notes. When he uses me in

this manner, I feel the sharpness of the strokes and I know he has started

a new project. He is articulate. However, for today, whatever his plan is,

I'm ready for it.

Ready for the flow of energy that will come out of me and land in different

shapes of blue on the smooth surface of something made from bark of

wood, paper.

You never know, he may not use me today. My name is pen.

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