I lost my pen
The pen I loved
No other pen
Gives me the feel
The feel of the pen
That I've lost.
I've an idea
Floating inside
There's a deep
Urge to write
But pen in hand
Does not move.
The pen I had
Turned intimate
When I try to write
I think of the pen
Thought of the pen
Freezes all thoughts.
What I've lost
Must be somewhere
Lying idle or
Active in hands
I wish you well
Let me start afresh.
Hope someday
I'll find you back
I can't hold
My thoughts any more
I hold your friend
To write my words.
Our bonds with simple things make us intimate with everyday life around us. It is expressed here in such a simple words yet have power to influence deeply. Than you for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With use, we grow intimate to certain things! Though they may not be very expensive, they become indispensable! I can relate to your feelings. This is exactly how I felt when I once lost a pen that I used for a long time!