The Pen - Stephen Harvey

The pen caressed the paper
It was calling for the lost
A lifetime fraught with anguish
In a story thought forgot
Those childhood tales of sorrow
Pour freely from its nib
With memories far too painful
That time will not forgive
It whispered things unspoken
From voices in the dusk
That wake a sleeping sibling
when maternal eyes are shut
They cry out in the darkness
With screams securley bound
A tourniquet of silence
Where only hate is found.

Published by Rising Brook Writers in their compilation of poetry 'Inside out'