Trixie and I
Trixie is begging me to write something new
She is on my toes, twirling her baton with lights all blue
They are flashing in my eyes, beeping in my face.
She is agitated, says I am a huge disgrace.
The stuff you are writing today is something already seen.
I stick out my tongue, feeling childish and mean.
That is not attractive she says, with a snotty huff.
So I get out my fingers and start writing stuff.
Does she help me? Not in the least not a bit.
And to think she was the one having the hissy fit.
She is in a weird mood, this little muse of mine.
But it is okay, because most days she is fine.
She is coming over to peek at what I have done.
She rolls her eyes and says "That isn't any fun!"
Now she is typing, taking the keyboard away.
I have no qualms that we'll make up by the end of the day.
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