My fountain pen.

One fine morning I woke up to find your empty case,
I feared I must have lost you in haste,
But then you reappeared from the drier
Like Sita who stood the test of fire.

My companion for the worst times and the best,
I swear that I would keep you close to my chest,
You immortalize my words on paper white,
And judge me not on what I write.


PS: I by mistake put my pen in a drier.