As I sit and read this prose and rhyme
I long to give credit where credit is due
Yet this symbolic pen takes no credit
For these treasures found in inks of blue
Now you may ponder why this is
As you read poems of love and hopeful dreams
But a heart has become the true author now
This pen has simply become the means
The very words that you find inside
Are etched from the true inks of a soul
So you see it is impossible to give credit
To a pen who no longer posesses control
