I looked high and low to find Becca's muse
I searched in the barn looked under a goose
For that strange fellow with long flowing hair
He wears interesting clothes and has great flare
In his pocket inspiration is kept
He sprinkled magic whenever she slept
We are sad she hasn't written in days
No more poetry to read and to praise
I keep up my searching, him I must find
Without her verse I'll go out of my mind
My search ends after I look every place
He hoots and hollers he so loved the chase
"Go back to my friend she misses you bad,
if you rush back she will truly be glad."
He smiled a broad smile and bid me farewell
"It won't be long, she'll have stories to tell."
Sometimes a muse must gather inspiration
Running from me his little vacation
So now he's back with her where he belongs
Soon we'll read poetry and lovely songs
Dedicated to my friend Becca.
Work in progress