The Green Pen

The Green Pen

 

The green pen writes

Of what he knows,

Of summers sweet

And winding rows

Of hills and mountains,

Rivers blue,

Peace and calm,

Where all is new.

 

The green pen writes

Of all in light.

He never knows the dark.

Until he passes

Through the shade

Where no pen makes a mark.

 

Until, at last,

The pen returns,

No longer vain and new,

But full of balance,

Full of heart,

And wiser, truer view.

 

The green pen writes

Of what he knows,

Of summers sweet

And winter crows,

Of hills and mountains,

Desserts bleak.

For now his words

Have learnt to speak.

 

-M.M.

Advertisements

Please comment here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s