What Is Mine, Is Lost

Writer's block.

Sigh.

 

Words

Seem to fail me

As if you

My Muse

Has left me.

 

Like

The receding snow

Melting under

The late winter sun

Leaving behind

A wet trail.

 

Except

In this case

The trail has

Left no trace

For me

To follow.

 

As

Attempt after attempt

Is deleted

With mounting

Frustation.

 

As

A blank screen is

Left to witness

My lost.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the trail may be lost, but writing instinct will help us find our way once again, and we will reach the muse wherever she is hiding.

[therisa]

Jacob, I would settle for, a trail of breadcrumbs, at times.