One warm summer day
I’m writing away
When the pen decides to play
A lovely little game
It runs to table’s edge
Leaping off with a grin
Forcing me to tredge
Emerging out from within
Pacing native roads
The utensil remains out of site
Flying through the countryside
About as fast as a kite
I rush through the town
Covering all ground
But no matter who I ask
The pen can’t be found
Tired and exhausted
I stumble back home
Sitting down in my chair
Letting out a loud groan
And that’s just when
That tricky little pen
Comes back to my den
Asking to make amends
And so, I take that rascal in my hand
As the sun sets outside the glen
Writing about how much I ran
All for the sake, of one little pen