Andrew Charles Forrest

Less a Peach... more Apricot

Less a Peach... more Apricot

 

I have no will to write today

The muse had upped and gone away

I guess I have not a thing to say

I have no will to write today

 

So it must be the embers of my drole

That forces ink to part my soul

Or is it that I must cajole

The worthless embers of my drole

 

What is it I should do, I wonder

To chase away this empty? Plunder-

-books or stories  of the, Under-

-world to make me ponder

 

Get out! Get out! I hear you say

Leave he desk when you feel this way

Dine out for lunch on lifes buffet

Go meet someone, be not passé

 

So it seems that I am forced to jot

Whether the muse is here or not

My writing tree though once loquat

Much less a peach... more apricot