Broken Appointment

by Penny Wilson Writes, posted in Writing

The bitch.

I sat there
in my usual spot.

Fingers poised;
ready.

Usually,
it just flows.

It begins as a trickle
with me
peck, peck, pecking my way
onto the page.

Then she takes hold
and the scenes
unfolding behind my eyelids,
magically
find their way
to the page.

Magic.

It really does
feel like that.

She has hold of me.

My fingers glide,
unbidden,
forming the images
in my mind’s eye.

The world around me;
forgotten.

The page and me.

That is all
there is.

But not today.

My Muse
broke our appointment;
again.

Fickle bitch.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

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