Golden Ink by Star P.

The shock of plastic against static hands
And the feel of a tip to touch
The silvery metallic bands
And the flawless utensil as such 

Each line connects
And with that funny-fizzed movement like so
The trinket that caused hands to sweat
Begins its remarkable tone, to a slow 

A figure of such put together handiwork
The pen withdraws from the page
And from behind shadows, lurks
To set its new satisfactory stage