The Pen

We'd just look back to Stone Age days,
Pictures on walls in musty caves.
Without the yearn for pages read,
A bards tale in bars would be said.
And when we reached a latter age,
A careful thought by a wise sage.
Leading on to middle times,
With Shakespeare's plays read out in lines.

We always have a tale to tell,
It makes us 'us' when all else fails,
So I shall do what makes me 'me',
I'll choose the pen, for all to see.