Narrative poetry A visit from my muse leaving me in a state of deep reflection.
Desperation when the old writer's block sets in.
My muse companion has left me without a poetic clue
She wispered, " Ruby you write your best when you're feeling down and blue "
I told her, " Just look at the sun shining so brightly outside
How can i feel blue when the new buds are emerging through the soil with such unstoppable pride "
She gently tugged on my ear to remind me, she could stop coming around
I felt a tear forming and lowered my head down
That's when i asked her, " Do you like me better when i write about a love that went wrong? "
She looked at me again with a wistful frown
Telling me, " Ruby you know me so well
you've always been there the many times i fell
Please don't tell me you've finally got over being sad, could it be you've found serenity? "
That's when i began to say the prayer and found i understood the words were written for someone like me
I watched my muse tuck her quill inside her little tote bag
She then turned and looked deep within my eye's, begging me to feel like an old worn out rag
I knew if she left me, no more could i write about hurt and frazzled fray
So i put on a CD and listened to George sing, ' He stopped loving her today '
For just a brief moment i saw my muse smiling as she went quietly on her merry way
I knew without a doubt she'd return when old memories resurfaced again another day.
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