Without my Pen (Original Poem)

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Pen.jpgPhoto by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash

I remember way back when.
We would run through the mist
of the parks heat-haze bliss,
wistful memories, happy, free.

I remember way back when.
You shattered like lamplight
splashing on the concrete;
energy, fulfilled in motion.

I remember way back when.
I watched you grow up,
knew it was never enough,
to relieve pain, empathy,

never enough to know
you perfectly in abstraction.
All the while I sit in dead
twilight, in bitter distraction

chasing those memories
never to return. Seeking
the inevitability of disappointment
armed with this ink gun.

I remember way back when
I could know you, truly see you,
without my crutch,
without my pen.

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4 comments
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Without our pen, we can't express our thoughts and ideas. We can't create the beautiful world of perfection. Indeed, your work is done with so much creativity that allows us to remember realization and understand symbolism.

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A pen that glides over sentimental lines that blend with the color of nostalgia and life.

Thanks for sharing.
Good day.

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Writing serves us not only to remember, but to leave those memories fixed in time and keep them alive, a way to always be with those we never stop loving. I think your poem speaks very well of that. Greetings.

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