A pen running out of ink
assisted me with getting out my thoughts
on to paper.
These thoughts aren't really a poem.
Unless someone comes around
thinking it's a masterpiece without
a signature.
But still I could.
I could sign my name at the bottom
at top speed
like signing my life away to this very pen.
This pen I hold
that I probably found on the side
of a road
has helped me through a lot.
This pen has helped me
pass a nursing test.
This pen has helped me write a dozen speeches
to give in front of church.
This pen has helped me from
taking too many pills
or making a checkerboard
on my wrist.
This pen.
So simple
yet so ordinary.