Posted by: Peadar Ban | April 11, 2014

Ink Is What A Pen Needs


I wrote and sealed a letter just the other day
Then took it to the curb and placed it
In the box where it lay and waited
As did I
For the mailman to come by;
And I have to say
I enjoyed the exercise.

Before I wrote a word I sat and thought
Of what to tell my friend.
How I might begin, and how end;
What to put between
The end and the beginning…
Whether the letter should be long, or short.

Then I boiled some water and brewed a cup of tea,
Found a pen, one that still had ink.
(That should have been easy, one would think,
Here where pens proliferate like weeds.
But, no!  Each one I picked and tried
Was dry.)

Who would dare read dry pen impressions,
Faint, brailish dry pen scrapings?
For letters, philosophies or screeds
Ink as well as mind is what a pen needs.

I found one though, and sat down to begin;
Tea beside me
World outside me
April bright and new
In the morning when
I began to write to you.



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