The Importance of a Poet's Muse

It had been a while since I’d written a rhyme; the ink was drying up in my silent pen. My muse had vanished – it was such a crime; hadn’t felt this lonely since I don’t know when, for this bard longed to write poetry once again. Then suddenly there appeared out of the blue; a new muse who would help me to get a grip. Her timing was perfect; she was right on cue; she was here to take me on a magical trip; then slowly from my pen the ink began to drip. My muse now inspires me with amazing drive, and in my words and rhymes it certainly shows. My pen is suddenly once again alive so very important as every poet knows; now again, from my pen, the ink freely flows.