The Muses are being elusive again,
like they want to hide from me or something.
Don’t they know I know their strategies?
Don’t they see how important they are?
Why do they hide behind the trees?
In the cupboard?
Why do they look at me and laugh?
Daring me, toying with me?
I do try to coax them, cajole them, pay them even.
But some days they just sulk,
or abuse
or worse yet
they play hide and go seek.
Do they know I am on a deadline here?
Could be a poem about writer’s block during the marathon even. We’ve all been there with those elusive muses. Good job!