Some nights she beacons me to write


    as the muse tugs upon thy heart strings


    when words come, the mind takes flight


    soaring high above as if it had wings.


    Then there are days she isn''t around


    I feel like a tree surrounded by drought.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.It''s hard not to walk around with a frown


    unbearable to take what life dishes out.


    Then inspiration returns like a rising sun


    blanketing the world with warmth and love


    much work is done as the day is clearly won


    it can make you feel invincible, sort of.


    Writing comes and goes, like waves on a shore


    yet despite the torture, I always desire more.