Seems my muse has lost her way
Stumbling in the darkness
And there’s nothing I can say
That leads her to the light
Choirs of angels, bands of men, children speaking Latin
None have even made a dent
Much less loose the battens
Breakfast in an old cafe
Donald Fagen playin
Slidin in across the bay
A sea fret on the rise
Ravens congress, seagulls flock, then vanish in the chasm
And Zeus’s daughter still is lost
But where I cannot fathom
An old guitar with rusty strings
Leaning by my window
Calling out for me to sing
My words have all run dry
But deep inside a voice begins, it’s you that locked me up within
I grab that axe and start to sing
It seems I hear my muse again
Photo Credit
Photo is Wikimedia Creative Commons
Tess Wixted says
Gil, I’m glad your muse has returned. We all need to bask in your splendid creativity.
Tess
Gil Namur says
Thanks … and BLUSH!!!!!!!!!!
Gileeeeeeeee
Faye says
You’re an inspiration, dear soul.
Blessings
Gil Namur says
Thank you Faye!
So are you 🙂
Gileeeeeeeee