Pen Anxiety


It’s gone.
My Jean Pierre Lepine fountain pen is gone.
The one I’ve written with for the last seven years.
And I mean, just POOF!
Disappeared from the zipper pouch
where it was safely tucked with my journal.
I actually spent time looking for it…
in my meditation corner,
in my bed,
in my car…
Where is my pen?
Have I lost my mind?
I have loads of other pens,
I could’ve written plenty
by now,
but this pen.
This ONE pen is…
my pen.
My one pen that I’ve held
and moved and loved
for years.
How many miles of ink
did I write with this pen?
And now I need to let it go?
Deep breaths.
The one who thought the words
and the one who placed the tip to paper
to write them
is very much, thankfully, still here.
And there are many more pens out there…

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