The Pen, My Friend

ink splash

The pen, my friend, lays quiet.
Aches for my touch.
I ignore it.
Too busy.
I flit here and there,
a gnat disturbing activities
just enough to be annoying
but not enough to make
a lasting difference.

My friend, the pen, waits.
Silent.
Until I have no choice
but to return.
I see her lying there calm and quiet.
I return to unleash chaos.
I splash ink across the page.
I saturate white with explosive ideas.
Thoughts that have been
hibernating, dormant,
hovering on the cusp of awareness,
release.
A frenzy of strokes and letters
circle up and down
until my pen begs to be put down.
It cries to be ignored again
so it can catch its breath,
relax,
dissolve into peace.

8 thoughts on “The Pen, My Friend

  1. NORA KISER says:

    I love it…so connected with being out of touch and needing to get back 😊

  2. jimibodansko says:

    i really like your writing alot Mary and this piece you have created here with all due respect is totally orgasmic in nature if i may honestly say so …. :O) awesome ….

  3. John @ Home says:

    I like it!!!

    John

  4. Jarrod C says:

    An ode to writing for sure!

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