In the quiet of night, it softly glides,
A dancer on a stage of white,
Inked whispers flow like gentle tides,
Crafting dreams in the soft moonlight.

With every stroke, a story unfolds,
Secrets of the heart, untold and deep,
The pen, a vessel of truths it holds,
Awakes the soul from its silent sleep.

It bridges worlds yet unseen,
With each line, a universe anew,
The pen, a magician with ink unseen,
Painting skies of every hue.

Endless tales beneath its fleeting touch,
An eternal dance on the canvas of time,
The pen’s embrace, it means so much,
Capturing life in its poetic rhyme.