The gentle slide of a pen
Is far more pleasing to me
Than the metal skRITCH ScreECH
Of a mechanical pencil.
I keep and treasure my pens,
As they are each unique
And hard to replace
While pencils are a dime a dozen.
Pencils are easily lost
And I’m always in the want for more,
As though they don’t fulfil their purpose to me.
I dislike the infidelity of a pencil,
The fact that anything done can be undone with a stroke from the other end
Erased, just like that.
Unlike the reality of a pen.
Once something is set in motion with a pen,
There is no going back.
— The End —