2021 Calendar Is Blank

2021 Calendar is blank My imagination grabs my muse Twirls her around Whispers in her ear They pick up purple and pink feathered boas Dance onto the page, leaving flecks of feathers and glitter I dust the feathers off, Not as ready as they were Opportunity screams into my ear It is your way this year, not theirs I grin, thinking it is a lovely sentiment But my muse and my imagination are overbearing I stare at the white crisp space I can fill it with whatever I want. It could be my way this time. My heart leaps a bit in the air I feel delighted for about two seconds. My muse grabs the pen and begins to write. Imagination is next to her, yelling instructions. Have I lost my chance or are they going to include me? I snatch back the pen.