pierre cardin

once when i was just in class five
my father gave me a pen so fine,               
the clock said  it was time to dine
and my pen count was just nine;

placest this pen so close
when i went to bed,                                
i woke up to see whether it rose
                                                                                    and admired it's colour so very red!

blushed the rose like my pen
or shall it be the other way my friend?

clasping it so delicately
and dreading it's fall.....
friends thought me to be malicious
and replied passively to my call :(

darling it was to me
but who beholds the future to sow?
alas!lost my little pen i thought
and cried till the oceans themselves cried dry~

hollow was my sole
when came into my room
the gift er of the pen,
parting the curls on my forehead
he stood with another of those blushing pens;

i thought he had found it then......
'take it' darling
'it keeps the same love that the earlier one bore'
and my flooded eyes looked up into his
'father i have no right to hold another any more!'whispered my sole
holding me by my shoulders said he
'looke at you, this is all i owe.....
......your pain be the witness
......how much you curse yourself
......and how much you care for my love'
then i knew all he meant;
leaving the pen behind
just before he left,
and now I'll make it mine
give it an identity
so it never wants to get lost!

and yet again life had swept by me
tearing me apart
and weaving me to see
a better me with regards,

after all if at all i lose all i have
'the love that it bears will always be mine
for it was never the red's property'
all i know is there's something called responsibility
and i will be there when it's my turn!