Wednesday, November 15, 2006

The Muse

I am drained,
My brain is a deserted street,
Empty but for the billowing scraps of paper.
The Muse has left,
And there are no more words to write.
Exhausted am I.
She is a ghostly mistress,
Coming like lighning,
Escaping like the wind,
Leaving only dust.

L.
4/5/95

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