In the quiet of the night, it whispers tales untold,
A silent guardian, tracing dreams both new and old.
With every stroke, it breathes life into a page,
A vessel of thought, transcending time and age.

Through the ink it bleeds, emotions find their way,
A dance of words, beneath the light of day.
It captures sorrow, joy, and every fleeting thought,
A keeper of secrets, by many hands it’s sought.

From ancient scrolls to modern, gleaming screens,
The pen remains a bridge between reality and dreams.
It crafts the future, honors the past,
In its embrace, our stories forever last.

So let it glide, with grace and silent might,
For in its journey, our world ignites.
A humble tool, yet power it bestows,
The pen, where endless possibility flows.