Lacking a Muse
Those writers inspired by a muse
Have a bevy of topics to choose
So when faced with a time
For composing a rhyme
There are mountains of thoughts to peruse.
But the rest of us sit there and stare,
Pencils poised, although barely aware
Of the air that surrounds;
Meanwhile, just out of bounds
Are ideas others’ muses won’t share.
Still, at last, the mere germ of a thought
Will pass by and, if lucky, be caught
And that’s all that I need
For the poem to proceed
So my worries all add up to naught.
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