Savannah and My Muse

I go in search of an elusive Muse. Her flight has left my vessels cracked and dry. Shafts of moonlight bathing o’er savannah, radiates no mist of magic in my mind, where once we danced in step with wildest drums and from my pen out flowed the words with ease. An artist on a trapeze I swing with ease, I ride a flying carpet in the arms of my Muse, conquering worlds to the battle echo of the drums. Never did I dip my pen in ink all dry, I lived a fancy dream world in my mind, exotic fantasies in wild savannah. The moon a giant pearl in my savannah, with wind a soothing breeze, I slept with ease. The warmth of night shadows reassured my mind, vanquished my phantoms as I journeyed with my Muse ever gracious, her gift jars never dry. Words poured out unceasing from her drums. But now I feel the silence of the drums, menacing clouds float over savannah, the grassy plains once green, now are dry. A flock of birds have plucked my words with ease, like leaves they gather to lay at the feet of the Muse. I am a scarecrow left bare and empty of mind. My pen drags, no words come out my mind, the ghosts of dead poets beat the drums, marching, losing rhythm, without my Muse. I beg the wind to find her in savannah, bring her back to me, my pain to ease, to cease poetic juices from bleeding dry. My riverbeds continue to run dry, without my Muse, I know I’ve lost my mind, I can’t afford to leave the Art with ease. In mysterious chambers deaf to the drums I retire to salve my wounds in deep savannah, and dream of waking up at the touch of my Muse. I wait for my Muse, though she has left me dry, In savannah I shall stay until my mind hears the drums, again to write with ease.