THE WAIT

The INK PEN turned and tossed,

unable to sleep,

with excitement rumbling from deep;

And the LEATHER DIARY,

unable to focus,

was trying to get ready for a magnum opus;

Even the GREY SPECTATCLES or the POLISHED WRITING PAD,

unable to think,

due to unexplainable nervousness,

we're all waiting for its master's entry,

to write about ideas that could change the world. 

And when the master came today.

She wrote so beautifully.

That they never realized it was the end of her own world.