Colleague of the notebook,

One is useless without the other,

Jotting down quick notes,

Or our finest cursive letters,

Bleeds red, blue, black onto the page,

Puddles blotting onto that same page,

But pens, biros, writing utensils,

Never really can be found,

Exactly when you need one,

Exactly when inspiration hits.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed