I was gone; I'm back. Where Are the words I left Behind? Where Are the thoughts? It's harder now To find Inspiration's sun, Wisdom's dew. I long For the facile pen, The liquid joy Of poems Dancing like raindrops Upon the tongue. Inner sight Is cloudy now, Scummed over With disuse and despair. Coming clean Isn't easy. Hope lost Is hard to find. God will help. I shall ask Him, And once more The ink, The words Will flow. I love my poems.
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