She’s a lovely but moody lady.
She doesn’t come to me when I call her,
Or when it’s a good time for me to write.
She only comes to me when she pleases.
My book depends on her, literally.
There wouldn’t be a book if it weren’t for her.
So, I learned to listen to her when she wants to speak up.
I learned to make her creating mood work for me.
I treat her with coffee and cookies when she makes an appearance.
We sit together at the table when she visits,
And we start writing.
I absorb every word she says,
And I let her lead the way.
~~~~~~~~~~
From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page 122.