2

My Muse

pen poised over paper
dangling in mid-air
the words, they don’t come
for my muse went away
and in his wake
disjointed thoughts remain
unable to reconnect
these fragments of words
like dried leaves constantly
being swept away
by the wind blowing
incessantly
as the door where my muse
passed through
remains open

-©The Elusive Scribe 011515-

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