I am at a low ebb br And little poetry flows from my nib br Even when I read others verse br Inside I have a dull response br At one time “in the zone” br Now I feel that I alone br Have lost the muses magic tune br That flowed through my veins br And into verse with rhymes sublime br That even as I cursed I knew that br She, this muse would lift up my spirits br Let fly with raptures of deft feelings br Long lost to mankind’s sensibilities br And rekindled in her fire br Of words so inspired that br Tears came to eyes long since dry br And now I am at a low ebb br I wait lonely for a high tide br To launch anew what only muses do br A storm of rained words br That at once drive and drizzle br With a softness that br not even stony hearts can repel.