Shall We DanceA Story by Mirza MehakWhat power a pen has on a writer! its a love affair beyond reason.That same urge to write again. No words, no story, no poetry, no point. Just the urge to write. To feel the slight shaking of the spine of my pen as it rests in the curved seat made by my thumb and pointer. Like a lover resting in the curve of an arm. The urge to feel the power on the edge of three finger tips that controls what can be said by the mighty nib. Urge to bear the impatience of an angry, restless hand that the mind refuses to co-operate with and makes it wait an endless second before revealing that right word. Urge to feel the pain in the wrist that fails to stop the admirable passion just like a mother continuing to swing her child to sleep in numbing, paining arms.
With heartless passion I abandoned the pen I already held and picked up my favorite pen. But it screeched dry at the first hello. I shook it with a plea to bleed like one pumps the heart of a dying counter part but it simply refused to revive. I lay it down to rest in peace.
© 2015 Mirza MehakReviews
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1 Review Added on May 3, 2015 Last Updated on May 3, 2015 Author
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