The Rest Is Still Unwritten...

Wish I was his pen.The way he sways it across that blank, soon to be marked, white paper from his journal on his desk. As he rubs his forehead, impatiently trying to get this thoughts well worded, he takes a glimpse at the pen on his hand and suddenly it takes over, jotting down those exact words he was trying to say. He feels confident once again; thanks to his pen…. The rest is still unwritten, oh how I wish I was his pen…