The Awakening of the Pen

As, the night sky rumbles…

And, winter draws near

I huddle in the cold…

Filled with a new fervor

Sometimes, the cobwebs need dusting…

Sometimes, a weary soul needs a smile

Or, maybe just a coffee, a cigarette

A short acknowledgement that you are mine…

But, it’s ok…all is well…

As, it rains

Cold…dreary…December rain

And, all pain is frozen

While, my pen awakens

Perhaps, in desperate search…

Search for an answer

Or…A desperate attempt to cling on to its identity