Pen, are you listening?
I know you are tired, but not lost your strength to walk.
Will you please hold few seconds, I would like to talk to you for few lines;
only few, last few.

Pen, I know you can hear me,
not my voice but every single saying from heart.
I whisper or not, every time you listen to me; to sounds of all emotions.

You are so lucky you never had to cry, never had to sigh for someone.
You make connection between everyone in family, to talk, to cry, to laugh, or even to breathe with each-other being thousands of miles away.

I know you have no tear, you only walk with other’s tears,
in mother’s letter, in father’s short notes kept inside the diary waiting for their girl away from home.

Pen, have you seen anyone’s death, any loved one’s?
You didn’t, you only wrote the news and walked there again and again with the memories of moments at the back of every photograph, together.

I know you couldn’t walk too much while a soldier wrote to his colleague’s mother, “Your son embraced a heroic death.”
I know grief pulled you back in pocket, closed and never wished to walk there again.

Why you can’t stop while writing any suicidal note?
Why you don’t stop listening to the heart that time?
Why you never wait for few minutes to let him remind all beautiful journey without you?
Why you walk there to let him stop forever?

Pen, only you can rewind the time,
only you can pull us back to all good memories in past,
Why you can’t stay there forever?

Let not your tiresome ink dry while someone lose himself.
Let him whisper to his soul, listen to his heart through you,
may be the lines will find him back.

Pen, thanks for being with us, for your emphatical assertion in a crowd,
where all other has a tough run to cross each-other
jostling, avoiding all the time.

Thanks for your generous part in making any resolution,
for any plea or for any urge to express
inside every noble lines of embracing life.

Please never stop until I stop,
you never requested me to stop, for which I've travelled so many lines living inside me with those enormous essence of words.

Pen, I pray you be in heaven with those who partnered you to write for humanity,
for peace and for love between colours demolishing all caste.
I’m sure God will keep you there, and you’ll speak while other will listen you.

O’ Pen, you’ve always been a friend.
Will you be there while I may have to stop forever, when I’ll lose all strength to hold you for the last time, during my last breathing?
Please, don’t stop before I do.

--- Fakhrul Aman Foysal

It's been 4 years almost that I wrote any single complete poem, I just sketched lots of lines with different plot but couldn't complete properly. And, don't know why yesterday an idea pulled me again to my diary, to write one, I appreciated that pulling and here is the result.
Thanks for reading. Any criticism will be welcomed.