Destiny of a Pen
By: Annie
Long ago in the days of yore,
I was a beauty hard to the core,
Nestling in the hands of blue blooded,
Displayed for people to see in places crowded,
First belonging to the minister of Wales,
Who bought me from luxury sales,
Even the clerks dared not to touch me;
For they knew only in his hands I can be.
Black and gold, perfect groom,
Sooner I became the family heirloom,
Passed on from fathers to sons,
Judges, knights and even business tycoons,
My last owner, the son of the judge,
Who was useless and talentless fudge,
Insisted upon having me and would not budge,
Sold me for gambling, Alas! What a grudge!
Now I lay in this dusty old place,
Old and rusting in my case,
Time passes at its own pace,
Till I wither away, I wait and gaze......
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