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HE THOUGHT OF HER

glimmering eyes that shone

brighter than the moon at night

as he sat at his writing desk at half past midnight.


he took his journal and his fountain pen

—the one his grandpa graciously handed to him.

he remembered that time all too well

the way his chest swelled with pride when being told he deserved it at a young age. 


yes, he still kept it since then

and polished it too, while it rested in a special case

that sat perfectly safe in his desk drawer.

the young man only ever used it when it was worth using.


NOTE

I'm just sipping my hot cocoa while reading your amusing comments.

And any silent readers out there, please do not be afraid to leave some thoughts! I swear, I will not jump out at you like the tiger I am if you do :)

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