You wrote.
We heard.
We smiled.
We wept.
The magic of your pen
Made us do so.
At night,
We slept.
While you wrote.
The morning came
But you still wrote
With your undaunted spirit.
The Spring passed away,
So did the Summer.
Winter spread the snowflakes
And Autumn swept them away.
Your pen never rested.
The ink never dried.
Today,
When you are there no more,
I look into your room.
The pen is still open.
The papers are all scattered.
And so is my heart.
You could have changed the world.
We know.
You changed our lives instead.
Now,
We look at the world
Through your painted glasses.
The Winter comes.
So does the Summer.
The rain turns your papers wet
The Summer turns them dry.
You do not hold the pen.
You do not write.
Powerful and moving! so well executed and constructed.
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The idea of the pen allowing people to see the world through someone else’s eyes is so powerful. This is a really well thought out and well executed poem!
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Thanks
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Very meaningful 🙂
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Thank you
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Touching..sorry for the loss
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Thank You for your words.
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Beautifully rendered.
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Thank you.
As you have already helped me a lot, I hope you will do me another favour by explaining the concept of adding tags to my posts.
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Very poignant. Having read this, my own restless soul is a bit quieter as it contemplates mortality and how little time we have to accomplish our goals. Thank you for sharing this.
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Thanks for your compliments.
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Thought pervocing and meaningful.
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Thank You
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