Pen is moving, anxious to start.
Will it translate what's in the heart?
Ink is now, beginning it's flow.
Staining the paper, with what comes from the soul.
Lines change into letters, forming the words.
Will they be the ones, that want to be heard?
Sentences follows sentence, after a time,
are they conveying, what was held in the mind?
With the final period, laying down the pen.
Till the need arises, to begin, again.