Silver Pen

It is a pen silver in hue

It writes silken smooth like black velvet with no rue.

It is tall embellished with fine carvings all over its length

It moves swiftly over my white page like a sprightly fawn prancing in grace

The long knib stokes the page bringing about letters and words ageless

It is a gift from my dearest father

Blessing me with inspiration fathomless

Cajoling me to write verse charming and blessed

The words brim and spill, I write eagerly and finish

I call out with spontaneity... papa and then stop abruptly as I realise

He is not with me to listen any more

To nod his head in appreciation from his core

I put down my pen and stare at it for long...

Fondly caressing its workmanship stretching the moment prolong

Then keep it tenderly away like a cherished song.