Writer’s Snooze


Some mornings, 
the Muse sleeps in,
and you wake up
to a silent pen.

Not to worry.

She can be lazy,
but she is too vain
not to return.

Drink coffee,
play with the cat,
read something soothing.

You are not suffering
from anything terminal.

Tomorrow will be sunny
and the two of you
will get back to work.

Poets get no
permanent respite.

Only the occasional
morning off
to relax and dream.

Enjoy yourself.

It never lasts long.

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