My pen/is my lover, I long to refill her over and over again.
I search for her when I'm in the mood, to express my urgings,
removing her from one set of her many drawers.
She moves with me across a bleached white rectangle
as I press the tiny button on her end.
Then she comes with me, in long slashing strokes on exquisite journeys.
We stain the sheets with shared passion, she bleeds ink,
with which I blend thought.
She lies comfortably nestled in my hand, smooth and slender,
copying my every move.
My pen/is my lover, laced between my fingers,sharing my most
intimate secrets with her every arch, each "O" and "G."
Lost in the "Y" of her, till my mind grows weary of her pleasure
then I offer her a nightcap,
and stagger off to my bed ........alone again.
Gold trophy winner
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