Out of Fashion

Opened a drawer
to pick a pen
from the myriad lot, lying unscribbled,
few bought, mostly collections
from pointless meets and conventions
Waiting for that rare occasion
to be put to use
Some long idle, parched,
to be thrown away,
only for a few more from
seminars and hotels join in.
For now, it’s more often instead,
tapping on the ‘smart’ pad
and much less on paper.
Till eyes rested on
a family heirloom box
and rummaging through
the other day, came across
a Pilot pen, yesteryear relics
Oh, what prized possessions.
Would have been in
Class six or seven
Dad, for a change patted
and thrust the coveted
writing fountain into my pocket
half ordering, ‘this ought to last,
your granddad’s, a gold medalist,
keep up the standards’.

This article was posted on Sunday, July 13th, 2025 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.