My pen

It's so much pleasure to write my thoughts,

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