Waiting For The Tide Poem by David Taylor

I am at a low ebb
And little poetry flows from my nib
Even when I read others verse
Inside I have a dull response
At one time “in the zone”
Now I feel that I alone
Have lost the muses magic tune
That flowed through my veins
And into verse with rhymes sublime
That even as I cursed I knew that
She, this muse would lift up my spirits
Let fly with raptures of deft feelings
Long lost to mankind’s sensibilities
And rekindled in her fire
Of words so inspired that
Tears came to eyes long since dry
And now I am at a low ebb
I wait lonely for a high tide
To launch anew what only muses do
A storm of rained words
That at once drive and drizzle
With a softness that
not even stony hearts can repel.