With a fountain pen one must write slow
Or the ink inside, it just won't go
Down each lined pulpen row
As the pen slides to and froe
The mind must melt with the hand
To create that within the heart
To travel across this arid land
Fluid thoughts sincerely impart
A fading remnant of recent past
Where commited thoughts are impressed
Seeping traces that will everlast
Emotions true, renewed, expressed