Boy and his Pen

The boy at the table holds a pen in his hand
And thinks of his mother
Their home,

They tore it down
And took her away;

The boy at the table fights tears and
Pours words into a cup.

He takes his pen for a stroll,
Then lets it loose

The pen finds the cup, stops to drink
Drawing words like bricks

Builds a palace

Outside the rain continues to fall
Umbrellas stroll in the canopy of clouds
The sky darkens

And the boy sits patiently with his pen,
Waiting for mother to come home

So he can seal her into his castle of words.
 

Contact

Fabio Gratton fgratton@gmail.com