This is just a simple shot
At seeing what this pen has got.
Upon my floor for months has sat
Amongst old works and Danish caps.
For though a pen I always need
Oft was one that I could see.
And so there on my cluttered floor,
Near my books and by the door,
Lay this pen of flowing ink,
Until one day I thought to think
"Mayhaps I'll use that gel grip pen."
(As I had lost the other ten
Which frequented my writing room.)
Above the pen then did I loom,
And reache'd down to take its shaft
And with its touch was I enrapt
By all the things t'would help me say,
From picking up and 'till I lay
It back upon my writing desk,
Or hide it in some treasure chest,
For its worth is just as great
As all the pearl in Heaven's gate.