Thank you, pen

Thank you, pen, for allowing me

To hide behind you thoughtfully

Where words can be written in due course

With the ability to stop and pause.

Where my opinions may be told

To wait, to sit back down and hold

Their brash and noisy tongues a while

Until determined if worthwhile.

Should I bring them out full force?

Or should I wait and ponder their source?

Does this opinion come from love?
From knowledge, truth… or a punching glove?

For sometimes if I don't allow

My thoughts to fully filter, how

They have a habit of coming out

Unannounced, and often without

A proper thought as to whether or not

They are really needed on the spot

Or if, perhaps, they should be trained

By self-control, to be restrained…

But written words can be rephrased

Added to, or just erased

Unlike words fresh off the tongue

Which can't return once they are flung.

So I admit, I much prefer

To let my reckless thoughts defer

To paper while I stop and think

Before putting them into ink.

For words have power of all kinds,

To build up, or destroy, our minds

To usher in sweet comfort and peace  

Or cause a frail hope to decease…

They can cause a fire to rage

Or put our future in a cage,

Or they can bring about great change

And cause a life to re-arrange.

And so, dear pen, I thank you much

For being a thought-buffer as such,

To filter out anger and pride

And let my careless words subside.