the words won’t come out…
it’s as if they have shut my metaphorical spout--
truly nothing verbally fruitful will sprout
maybe I am having a protracted senior moment
where nothing creative will attempt to foment
perhaps I really never had anything important to write
or my neurons have given up the fight
and my imagination has taken flight
and left me with thoughts of where to go for lunch
or whether I’ve had an accurate hunch
about where the market will close tomorrow
sad that I once could write on the nature of the Tao
and now scribble numbers about the falling Dow
tomorrow may bring more creative flow
but for now I’ll decide where for dinner I will go