Waiting for an Honored Guest

Sitting here with tissues
and ibuprofen,
a hot water bottle
and a steaming cup of tea,
your poetry,
and my own empty page
…ancient sage that reminds me
my muse is between visits,
As I wonder if I’ll ever write
another poem
I mutter to the empty room,
O Spring,
don’t knock,
just come on in.

4 thoughts on “Waiting for an Honored Guest

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