LETTER TO MY MUSE

Too many hours have passed

in useless wondering

and thoughtless meandering

among ideas amassed

in wasted floundering.

Alas!

Why bother to address

this failed endeavor to write,

or paint, or garden, or feint

to the left or right to avoid the sight

of another grey day.

The sun has hidden away all motivation,

replacing joy with aggravation.

Too easily am I deprived of hope.

Too ready am I to sit and mope.

Self-disgust is never allowed;

not in this life, not in this house.

So here is the poem for today.

Now, leave me alone.

Just go away!