I had it back in October
as the autumn leaves took flight

But then in chilly November
I became aware of my poetic plight

December has arrived
and my mind is still blank

I'm in desperate need
of some fuel in my tank

The words escape me
my mind I can't use

the burning question
where the hell is my muse?

Sleepwalking through life.
Sleepwalking through strife.
Daydreaming about happier times,
Then you came into my life.

I've never known this joy
Stemmed from the love of a boy,
Who holds me close and makes me smile--
My heart he won't destroy.

Stay in my life. Keep me awake.
My heart is yours; it's yours to take.

My reviver-- that's what you are.
My awakener-- brighter than any star.

Sleepwalking is no more because of who you are.

i was given the ability
to stand tall and strong
but
i'm on my hands and knees,
bent under the weight on my shoulders.
that weight is unbearable -
i feel my back cracking under it.
i know i have it in me
to stand tall and strong again
i just have to dig deep.

He was engrossed in his performance
in the enthralled silence of the audience
catching the subtlest notes from the instrument
as his supple fingers played with the strings
erupting into the finest blend of ragas
freeing the souls of all the stress
converging his heart into his music
eyes closed as in a transcendental state.

But I could not concentrate.

The face behind the beard and the unkempt hair
was familiar.

From a long distant day
I remember those fingers performed in a different way.

The afternoon I came back from school
and mom told me her monies were missing
and he was the only visitor to her room
waiting in the pretext of meeting me
but after a while leaving hurriedly.

He confessed and the money was recovered
but never again the breached trust.

The audience rose in ovation fingers clapping
my own frigid in remembrance
of another performance.