Ebony Quill Poem by Himani Singh

Lend me a pen. Would you?
Due is a feat since long.
I do not write,
Paper yet blots.
He hands me a quill
And an ebony pot.
Thoughts align
Smoke sublime fills
The air, eyes transfixed.
It is his secret, says he;
His being never saw
Light without his quill.
Dipped in abyss
Dried on hill
Weary eyes could
Take no more
For he said,
"Lend me a smile. Would you?
For my destitute being never heard a gay song."