My Addiction

I sit and I ponder
All the wonderful
Tales that speak
Of gallant Knights
And beautiful
Nightingales.
My Muse comes
And goes with
Ideas and wonderful
Prose.
I bask in joy of
Of it all
And love the voice
That gives me the choice.
Then one day a storm looms
And threatens to consume
The very Muse in me.
I fight with every breath
And it was in vain.
Now my Muse
Lays slain.
I hear her sweet voice
No more.
Now days of wickedness comes
And I have no fight left
To battle its might.
I began to shake
And I began to quake.
The need is deep
And long for my Muse.
Oh how I miss her
And how I need her.
If only for a little while.
Some small sound or
Maybe a whisper.
But, sadly nothing is abound
And I slowly begin to drown.
So, all I can do is smile
In that manic way
And hope for the day
That my Muse rises again.