In the quiet of a solitary night,
A pen begins its gentle flight,
Across the page, it dances free,
Crafting worlds for all to see.

It whispers dreams in quiet prose,
And secrets only paper knows,
With every stroke, a story blooms,
In ink’s embrace, a life resumes.

A weaver of tales, so deft and true,
It conjures skies of every hue,
Through words, it paints a vivid scene,
Of lands unseen, and lives between.

The pen, a humble, mighty friend,
Where thoughts begin and journeys end,
A silent guide through night and day,
With ink and hope, it finds its way.