|Where did that muse go?|
Enjoy! And keep the faith.
Inspiration, where’s thy flow?
My Muse, elusive, just won’t show.
My mind floats off upon the breeze.
Clearly I’m no good at this,
My composition’s hit-or-miss.
As the minutes tick on by
My story line begins to die.
Why keep up this “writer” pose?
My verses simply decompose!
My baby’s crying, down the hall.
Right on cue, a brainstorm comes,
My babe wakes up, and my head hums!
Hurry, quick! I’ve no more time –
My words begin to rush, and rhyme!
“Coming, Sweetie Pie,” I shout;
My fingers fly, thoughts tumble out.
|No, Cheddar. That's BUTT in chair.|
Naptime’s done! I shake my head,
My little Muse is out of bed.
-- by Christy Mihaly
©2014 Christy Mihaly
all rights to poem reserved