My pen is a fountain flowing with ink
like water, words bubble up from within
onto the page spill the thoughts that I think
a river flows with each tale that I spin
I remove the cap; life water spills forth
cascading across this great empty page
then as the words fill it, the page gains worth
and soon more of these dancers fill the stage
Silent ideas are soon forgotten
cursed to fade away without a record
but there to preserve them is the great pen
it seeks to let no dream become deferred
So let this great fountain spell out great thoughts
it lends satisfaction that can't be bought
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