Green has never been
A conforming or usual choice
For jotting your mind
Or scribbling your heart's voice
For they think of red,
Maybe even of pink and blue
As all the emotions
A writer's heart could sew
But there's more to a pen
That conveys the thoughts
Of a 'naut freed by love,
And binded in knots
That pen bleeds
But bleeds in green
For it knows the emerald ocean
It carries within
There may be streaks of blue,
Or turquoise and tinges of pink
(But never red or black)
Even when the cosmos tests...
Tests it...
To a treacherous brink
The heart did witness shreds of red
But the pigments would vanish
As the beating breath would thread..
Words of sunshine,
And chimes of breeze,
The smile of daffodils
Into the depth of the inking seas
That pen bleeds
And will bleed in green
For there's always a tomorrow
With a charismatic sheen
