A Musette
Ooh, where have you gone
lovely muse?
Here, where I sit withdrawn
you’ve become of no use.
Words once would flow
like the rays of the Sun
now, the ideas I create
are more like a blind date
unexciting and slow
like ”Davy Crockett” reruns.
Used to be, my Psyche
you would unlock it
with your key.
Now, there\'s just me
and my “delete” key.
Words become mere symbols
ink marks upon a page.
They used to ring like Zildjians
when John Bonham was on stage.
You know I won’t forget you
and what you’ve done for me.
Did I somehow upset you?
Do you disapprove, Mon Ami?
Please return to me.
My mind’s adrift and at sea
sinking fast into the great abyss
longing for your kiss
and your ingenuity.
Without you I am but a scrivener
an old time copier
enclosed like a prisoner
or an old time cottier.
Set me free! Let me fly!
Give me wings and an open sky.
Inspire me! Let me vivify.
Send me a dream, not a nightmare
a thought or a theme
I’ll make it a love affair.
Oh, ghost of my writes
that visits in the night
send me the light
that others see.
Inspire me to not be lonely.
Touch my hand
with your invisible light.
Let me hear a jazz band
as I write
playing Brubeck’s “Take Five.”
Let me think I’m twenty-five
but you know that I’m not.
Is that why you’ve forsaken me?
Am I an afterthought
that gets your help mistakenly?
You know that’s age discrimination.
But then, you’re just part of my imagination.
So, let me try to imagine
life without my lovely muse.
I cannot. It’s no use.