I can’t keep up with my muse’s ****
My write hand is dragging, like a catcher’s mitt
In such a hurry, trying to catch everything
You never know, my muse may make me sing

Words abound, no truth in any I’ve found
Still the words, they circle back around
Did they find my roots, am I buried that deep
The cold, dark ground, holds my secrets to keep

Wait just a minute muse, you’re going too fast
You have to slow down to make the pages last
Capture my heart, blurred between the lines
Uncover my soul, it’s inside these rhymes