My Hand, My Pen, My Paper #Poetry
This is poetry, read and pass-on.
My hand, it grasps,
a withered pen,
dry and old,
yet perfect all the same
My pen, it dances,
across the milky paper,
smooth and neat,
yet messy all the same
My paper, it shouts,
words, phrases, stories,
depressing and gloomy,
yet cheerful all the same
Note : Just a little poem that I thought up one night