Three days to go and the creative juices are drying up. Still, I’ve managed to bang out another one. Only two more to go!

A Missing Muse

The voice inside my head cries out,

“Oh no! This cannot be!”

“The words, the lines, those precious rhymes,

Have all forsaken me.”

Yet here I sit and still I type,

Pull words it seems from air.

For in my head is naught but void,

No muse yet lingers there.

From overwork my muse has fled,

To seek less stressful lands.

For someone whom, though they create,

Still time off understands.

For even on the days I miss,

My muse I still pursue.

For then there is the catching up,

And then next verse is due.

Now though that muse has sought surcease,

From labour in my cause.

The fact is I’ve three more to write,

Too late a day to pause.

So here I sit and still I type,

These words upon the screen,

And wonder if that muse who fled,

Will ever more be seen.

Cheers, Winston