Poem: Can a pen be a portal to the past?

I hold a new pen

  a Sharpie S-Gel

    don’t worry . . . 

      they say it won't smudge

It replaces a pen I just threw away

    and it takes me back

 . . . .

to my Mom's house

Pens

There were so many pens

Pens in drawers,

  Pens in puzzle books,

     Pens in sofa cushions

There were precious pens —

Cross pens

used for penning

  a letter to a friend

or a card of thanks to a priest

or a birthday card to a relative

All in her perfect penmanship

There were everyday pens

10-packs of Bic ballpoints

    from Dollar Tree

            for lists of calls

and lists of all things 

memory could not hold

Pens so many pens

rivaled only by rubber bands

. . . and paper clips

and gift bags . . . 

oh, so many gift bags

A pen is a particular thing

the tactile experience of it

  over paper

as we write a code that

moves our thoughts to page

A pen is just a pen

or, maybe it's a portal

Don't you just love a pen?