I am a pen

A fountain pen made in an unknown country.
But nowadays they leave us alone
And prefer the ballpoint pens?
My Boss with thick glasses
An old fashioned gentleman
Who writes a love letter it seems
After a long time?
He filled my belly with ink
Oh! I felt very cold.
He's seated on his ebony chair
with tears in his eyes
Looking towards the faraway burial grounds,
Then he writes;
'I see your tomb like an unexpected invitation!
Please let me know the party time
I search a humble present for you
And I want it to wrap
with a smile! '

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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