The Pen

The ink fills up
and starts
leaking
so I pull out
a sheet of paper
and give my ink a place to go.

At first
it clumps and stains.
The lines are
   crooked
and the let-
ters straggle.
I can almost read the words.

But I soon get used
to using the pen
and controlling
the flow of my ink.
The lines straighten
and sentences form.
Paragraphs appear
and soon whole stories.

And then one day
the pen runs dry.
The unending flow of ink has
stopped.
The pen is locked away in a drawer
and forgotten.

Until suddenly the ink
starts
dripping
again.

But I don't remember
how to control it.
The ink is leaving marks everywhere
and I search frantically
for my pen.

"Here it is!"
I've found the drawer
so I pull out
another sheet of paper
and give my ink a place to go.