Well... here I sit...
waiting for inspiration to drop in
like a hoped for visit
from a friend I'd like to come again.
My pen sits idle poised and ready
to catch a fleeting thought
while my hand lies steady
resting on the paper I bought.

Inspiration must be a fickle friend!
When she's near my mind is filled
with the visions that she'll send.
When she visits me I'm thrilled.
But I find she doesn't stay for long
nor come as often as I'd like.
Perhaps I'm looking at it wrong
and she's not really fickle but impolite.

Yet still I'll sit and wait a while
for her time's more valuable than mine.
If I told her what I thought she'd smile
and show me my next line.
So dutifully I hold my pen
and sit waiting for her word.
Perhaps she'll visit me again,
or perhaps she'll go unheard.