The muse

I hear the rush of inspiration

Flying on the breeze.

I’ve got no pen or paper;

I’ve got no time to freeze.

If I don’t catch it now, flying through the air

The story’s gone right through my head.

The warning signs are there.

A walk, a drive, rest on my bed.

It’s funny how I write this stuff

Because it’s never planned.

It comes from random thoughts

At oddest times not spanned.

Inspired by what?

The muse unknown.

It will pass through

If not wrote down.

Oft times recalled but ne’er so clear,

As that first message in my ear.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s