The other day I called it in
to my office, from the hall;
it wasn't that my muse was, "off"
it wasn't doing anything, for any reason, at all !
At the onset I thought it was but, a tad tired;
and l thought l'd give it another day;
then l began realizing a listlessness
that was contagious, much to my dismay.
I spoke with the man at the pharmacy
who assured me that there was a cure;
and that, if it were not soon administered
there'd be consequences no poet could endure !
So frightened was l, after hearing of this
l sprang to action, right after my nap;
l visited a place where the critics loved me,
'twas my fans thought l was loaded with, crap !
l awoke and went straight to my office
to have said "talk", with my weak little muse;
l instead, began writing about "nothing",
instead of holding on too tight, to an excuse