My Pen
It keeps me busy in my bookish cage
Gliding and sliding on the open page
It rest so quiet but not dumb
Between my finger and my thumb.

A world of words from it fluent tongue
The magic of music, the endless song
Digging and daring from the days of old
An ancient tool, for never bold.

Its life flows straight from its fountain of ink
With which it makes the longest link
Its tiny tooth, it's eloquent tip
It pricks and probe with its nifty nib.

In its inky fountain there is a glowing fire
We stroke it deep and it takes us higher
Silent warrior with the thunderous word
Forever mightier than the mightiest sword.