The fact is, this is not the same
As once it was; the magic ink
Stirs less of me as time leaves lines
So deeply carved in me. I think
The beauty may be lost for now
The muse steps forward, takes her bow;
But here I write
Despite, despite
The fire's fading, dying glow.
At midnight someone speaks the name:
My well-loved muse stands on the brink.
She doesn't know I'll need her soon.
She doesn't quite come in the room
As I with gusto dip my pen
And light the dying fire within
Come shed some light;
I write, I write!
And pour out promise ere you go.
postscript
I'm not gonna let life defeat me or keep me from doing NaPoWriMo again. What is this? My seventh year? Sixth? I don't remember and I can't easily look it up on my phone, which is the only thing I have to connect to the Internet on which is another reason for my absence. Trying to keep up with dA on the mobile app only is the pits. Who else is doing NaPo with me? Let me know! day 1!