Confession of a Poet

I'm inlove with my pen,
It started long time when,
Was alone and needed a buddy then,
A longtime relationship for more than years ten.

My mind has never been short of imagination,
Nor my hand been short of direction,
My love my pen never served me any retaliation,
A reason for my obsession.

She makes me true,
With every open page am new,
A threesome a paper is due,
A child, poetry is born out of the blue.

Her relatives like me,
The pencil one of my favourite,
We used to have a thing when i was a kid but its a secret,
Never had any regret.

The crayon,
I call her my rainbow,
She colours my label,
She has alway encouraged me to be able.

The felt pen their elder,
Always audible in writting by the letters it render,
Big but shes very tender,
She passes my message, you might send her.

I love you pen period,
Im never loosing you to no man,
Imma buy all ink in the world for you,
So that forever it will alway be me, paper and you against the readers.