The One Pen

The One Pen

In my hand, a single pen,

A humble tool, yet now and then,

It breathes life on a blank page,

A quiet voice, a silent sage.

With every stroke, a world takes flight,

Day turns to dusk, then into night.

It captures thoughts, both wild and free,

A map of dreams, a secret key.

A pen can sketch both joy and pain,

Soft summer's warmth, or autumn's rain.

It tells of love, of loss, of time,

In simple lines, it weaves a rhyme.

It scribes the notes of heart and soul,

A single pen can make you whole.

It shapes the past and future's bend,

With just one pen, there is no end.

Ink flows steady, like a stream,

Each word a ripple, each thought a dream.

From pen to paper, life does blend,

A single pen, the writer's friend.

In every line, a story's spun,

From just one pen, the world’s begun.

So here's to words, both lost and found,

Within one pen, the universe is bound.