The Pen πŸ–ŠπŸ–‹πŸ–Œ

The time had passed when i was found in the hand of people. They used me until they left me empty and all alone. This had been human greed, from the beginning. Before me they started scribbling with stones and satisfied themselves, and later they found feather and invented ink. But then, some of them modified it and invented me, everyone had me in their pockets, bags, hands. Without me nothing came into existence, nor were they able to replace me.

As time passed by, they modified me even more with – different shapes, sizes, colours, and cost. They purchased me with the lowest price and with a “Royal” price too. They felt proud keeping me in their top-front pocket. Some of them even considered me lucky, but little they knew – The most luckiest person was the most hard-working. Some said,” I am a symbol of proud and prestige” while some considered me nothing. I miss those hands who holded me.

Today i am jealous of them, because today they keep me in their show-case. I am lying here, all alone. They don’t care for me, because their “Phones” are doing all my work of typing. But they will soon know the difference, because they can never replace me, They will never “FEEL” with their phones how i make them feel when they hold me …. It’s all about how i make them feel ❀

—- Abdul Gani Punjabi

3 thoughts on “The Pen πŸ–ŠπŸ–‹πŸ–Œ

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