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Trixie ignores my refusal to write
I won’t write, I tell my muse. I refuse.
She laughs at my won'ts, my cant's and my do’s.
Most know Trixie; she brazenly dictates to me.
She is puling my strings, never letting me be.
I’m serious, I say. She laughs at my plight.
She forces me to stay awake most of the night.
Magnificent poems climb into my head.
Trixie will tell me when I can go to bed.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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