Fall and Rise of a Poet

The poet said, "I'll write no more!
Erato has walked out the door!
Love has left, and nothing does remain!

"She was my Muse, my love, my life!
Without her, all has turned to strife!
Now all I hear is lost love's sad refrain!"

I tried to give the poet cheer,
but he would hardly let me near.
With tears and sighs, he looked a sorry sight!

I said I'd take him for a drink
(or two), and give him pause to think
about his life, this fateful, mournful night.

At length, he said he'd tag along,
and so we joined the merry throng
inside the local tavern, down the lane.

He said, "I'm drinking to forget!"
I nodded solemnly, and yet,
I knew with time his smile he would regain.

A sing-along was in full swing,
and soon we too began to sing.
And sure enough the poet's smile returned.

We drank and sang into the night,
as mournful moods were put to flight,
and all the table candles had been burned.

I helped him home, past closing time,
and on the way he wrote a rhyme.
I told him (truthfully) I was impressed!

He laughed and said, "Thank you, my friend!"
And I was sure that in the end
the poet's pen would not have time to rest!

_____________

Copyright © Robert Haigh 2017 Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)