Sitting here looking past the computer at the wall
With no inspiration, no idea, no input at all
Trying hard to let the fingers do the talking
Maybe I should refresh the mind, do some walking
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder
Where is my muse, what happened to her, I ponder
Hope she will be back soon to help me out
To overcome this terrible writing drought
Being a writer without thought or inspiration
Is like being a silent witness at my own cremation
Watching my dreams flow out the exhaust
No more writing or poems, all is lost
But wait, open your eyes and check this out
What I just wrote is a poem without a doubt
My day just turned from dark to light
I’m back in business, I can write!