Better than sharing with the friend I walk.
Sometimes moody and some very silly,
Always noting the muses of its lady,
Never will argue, none will question,
Any color of the ink, when chosen.
Heartless indeed, but a quiet listener,
Who never judges on what I ponder.
Sometimes stuck in my occupied mind,
Words don't flow with the emotional mime.
Yet it's tries scribbling, to amuse
It's lady to whom, gives an idea to muse.
Here I tried to personify a pen. Making the pen a private friend with whom I share the most secretive thoughts, for, a pen - a materialistic thing without a heart or soul will not judge me by my thoughts and will always be a quiet listener. The pen would even try to cheer me with its scribbles, and when words don't flow, these scribbles would even give me ideas to think