Absent Muse by Peter Ainscough

Whatever happened to my muse?
Has she gone off to warmer climes
Now that the gloom of winter’s here?
Has she grown tired of my mutterings
Deciding now to disappear.

I don’t mind that she’s gone – for after all
She kept me much awake at night,
Then nagged me in the middle of the day
And dragged me from the lingering sight
Of beauty on a summer’s day.

Ah yes, she was a mistress hard,
Keeping me ever keenly tasked
With no respite. She said, “If bard
You want to be then heed when asked
And take your pen and write, and write” –
And so I did for many a day and even night!

And many a writing year has passed
And now my muse has fled at last.
I said I do not mind and it is so,
I bade her many times to go.
But now I have to question why
She took my pen when off she went?
But asking gets me no reply:
She’s gone and she will not relent.

More witticism from Peter which perhaps goes to prove that the absence of a muse can be just as inspirational as its presence!?

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