(This is a very imaginative poem penned by Ansh. Just 11 years old, Ansh likes to review children’s books and has also written some short novels.)
Here was a shiny pen,
It wrote in the books of good men,
It had a refillable system,
Its first owner was Tim,
It had written poems long and short,
The word “retirement” was never even thought,
It had a stub and a nib,
The stories it told were never fibs,
Sometimes as it drew closer to the old mids,
He grew tired but never spoke any bids,
It had adventures on its very own,
Optimistic as it was to writing it was prone
But alas it didn’t know when it fell into wrong hands,
When a boy took it to run his school errands,
The pen got a little bored,
In a pencil box it was stored,
One day the boy threw it,
It landed in a deep pit,
Here is how it broke,
This is the last time of it that I ever spoke.
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