one pic

( Spike )

Empty day. So I play.

( clicky again and again and again )

( Belated ETA for an alien abduction )

The day just keeps on... being.

Found at mos_self's, here's a story you might want to read if you've been in fandom, any fandom, for more than two minutes.

I don't normally do this. And for a good reason.

"A poem about an object which is like me"; as prompted [#10].


This pen,
in the middle of my desk, lying there, useless for the moment
but oh so useful
in life.

This pen of blue and silver,
brings images of mountain peaks,
of cold stunning winters,
of words

Waiting to be written.

Ink flows from it like magic,
and worlds will be created on paper
when I just pick the pen up.

Which will happen.

Any minute now.

This pen,
is cold.

[end. I rock in mysterious ways]