Author Information
Edgar Allen Poe's Fountain Pen
Folder:
Spontaneous Here we go again
but I am just a pen
Moving swiftly across this desk
but only when he is upset
We share a bond unlike no other
More than friends:
he is my brother
He thinks up masterpiece by piece
and I provide his writing need
It is a job I take to heart
I doubt we'll ever be apart
He picks me up, writes vigourously
Imagining his thought and dreams
We used to live in a place called Boston
Where we'd sit under trees and listen to robins
I comforted him long ago
When the seasons took his family's soul
He carried me when he went to school
He carried me wehn he learned the rules
All his secrets I will know
But he is now lost in the snow
As I fall to the floor
I fantasize his spirit soars
Like the message of neverending doors
I will be gone like the beloved "Lenore"
I will rise from this lonesomeness
Nevermore
