My muse just up and left me,
didn't even say goodbye;
I sit amid'st my darkness,
devoid of tears to cry.
I had it until recently,
had all my words in play
and now my mind is in a funk,
I don't know what to say.
I'm hopeful it will soon return,
but doubtful that it will.
It thinks of me as all washed up,
a poet, over the hill.
Perhaps, I've reached the apex
of what was my greatest thrill.
That leaves me with this sad, sad choice-
Just get on down that hill.
But, if perchance you spot it,
please send it home to me.
I'm sure you would not want it,
it holds no high degree.