Sitting alone in a darkened room
Pondering here…
…………………………..what should I say?

This pen is almost silent now
These words depend on what I write
I wonder how the story goes but
I not so sure that anyone knows

My muse does not attend today
She’s left me here with naught to say
The pitter-patter of her tiny feet
Is nowhere near that I can hear

Her wafting jewels of thoughts unfurled
Are locked up tight beyond my mind
Her patient touch I love so much
Is just a memory (a phantom's touch)

I figure if I write this down
The world will turn around again
Perhaps there’s something more to say
Or maybe there’s another way

I can’t be sure—I won’t pretend
The thoughts I have are better said
Than written down and left for dead
They’re churning now inside my head

So listen close and you will hear
The mystery of this darkened place
The chance there is to make it clear
Is almost gone and not so near