WHO’S THE BOSS

Dear muse, my brain Has gone so mushy, Pray come take part, Please do not refrain, Want to write a poem That’s gushy. My paper white and blank, My thoughts no spark, My mind once was a thinking tank, Now buried deep and dark. Imagination crushed, Letters prefer to hide and seek, Words that flash by, dashed, My muse the culprit, am I too meek? My inclination to write gone, I think I must curl up and die, Can’t even write a song, Must find a far far place to cry. Word got out I was unhappy, Another muse phones me, Says she alone takes any credit, No thank-you don’t you see, Where would be my merit? I heard a far faint voice, I ‘ll never leave you, I’m no fake, It was the only choice, I’m part of you and you part of me, I just needed a break. So, let’s get to work, I think you’ve done quite well, Yesterday I overheard, Someone say you’re swell. Together we’re a team, A thought just crossed my mind, It’s sometimes good to let Off steam, First lets wine and dine, And then a dreamy subject find.