Muse Abuse

Fumbling for a pen in the dark of night Few lines of poetry I had to write Fearing they vanish with approaching light To wake one at night the muse has a right? Rice turned charcoal and soup dry While I ran upstairs to add a new rhyme Long distance was left on the phone to cry With muse on the line I lost track of time Too many discussions end in fights Too many questions answered with what? My mind takes off on poetry flights This time the muse I'll kick in the butt Offended or not don’t come after nine The poet will go to rest after we dine.