The Muse said, "Write!" and so I raised my pen,
Not knowing quite just what to do, but then
I found myself within a forest, tall,
Where all the leaves were words, both great and small.
I looked around in wonder, and in awe,
At all the dream-like magic that I saw.
A violent wind came down and shook each tree,
Till every leaf-word fell in front of me.
I gathered all I could, but quickly found
They all began to crumble on the ground!
"Too late!" the Muse cried out, "Your time has gone!"
The words had turned to dust now — every one!
I heard the Muse say, "You shall write no more!"
As icy gusts of wind cut to the core.
I fought back tears, believing what she'd said,
Then suddenly awoke, in my own bed!
A dream — a nightmare! But now sweet relief!
I sighed. I laughed. And banished was my grief!
Copyright © Robert Haigh 2015