I was a celebrity, and for you, divine,
for your every step, I was your spirit,
I was your backbone, I was your home-mate,
and I was your pal of all pals, right!
For kitchen-mundane, a diary
the homemaker's diary to scribble the need;
me her helper helps her, then no worry,
and lists the items, she couldn't avoid.
Writers vomit the ideas of their self,
and I am there, wherever they go;
winners gain me as gifts and I
lie with them in my new golden garb.
Office people, ticket examiners, doctors
and all are there in my counting column,
farm workers and their masters for records,
assist them and that is solemn.
I with delight, sleep with people
of all kinds and pupils of all schools;
they wanted a good bed for me
that they got in their apparel.
I slept in serene places for my rest
and now I am thrown at corners,
and in petite spots and
in dirty bins, I await my last breath.
Alas! My celebrity status vanished,
the computers and phones encroached on
to my compound and I am far-chased;
I, your PEN, see my adieu forever.
