Dear Favorite Pen,

You sit quietly over carefully lined pages

Resting gentle in my loose grip

Point hovering just above the first blue line

Your ink begging to be released

Longing to pour it's essence out on the page

To create something fantastic

With smooth curves of startling imagery

With the delightful lilts of alliteration

Stretched languid words like spilled molasses

Quick hard words like the crack of a whip

Laying out all you have in soft cursive

I wish to free you from your plastic prison

But I'm terribly afraid the words refuse to come

My Deepest Apologies,

The Hand That Holds You