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by James Zealy

I hold the gold tipped instrument
Pewter body warm
And reflect on the gift
Given from afar
Resonating memories
Of letters penned
In Royal blue lines

Conversations held back and forth
Across the water
As I Waited anxiously for weeks
At a time
Until the carefully penned
Response to my hen scratch calligraphy
Arrived, framing heart felt empathy
For our lives expectations

She, my copper haired muse,
Emerald eyed soul mate
Encouraged me to share
What I write
And the Pen A "Messenger"
Is the instrument I retrieve

To remind me to write
To share and to reflect
When before her,
I did not know I could
Feel Anything


Posted on 07/08/2005
Copyright © 2021 James Zealy

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Anita Mac on 07/08/05 at 08:10 PM

This is beautifully worded.

Posted by Ashok Sharda on 07/12/05 at 03:59 PM

'And the Pen A "Messenger" Is the instrument I retrieve', an instrument transmitting those feeling which refused to manifest 'when before her'.

Posted by Alison McKenzie on 09/12/05 at 06:55 PM

Well, whoever "she" is, I am so thankful she encouraged you to share!!!

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