Inspiration, My Cold Friend

The autumn wind blew slowly

Over the unpaved paths

My canvases lay on the ground

In the muddy tracks


Paint blotched my hands and clothes

While emptiness blotched my heart

For Inspiration did not come to meet me

As it had regularly done from the start


And the day carried on

As Apollo dived into the night

Letting the stars come out to peek

At a truly sorrowed sight


I lay down on the bench

And tried to fall asleep

Because maybe in the land of dreams

Inspiration with me shall meet


Sighed I as I closed my eyes

And faced the coldth around

Swaying myself into the warmth

Of Utopia and it’s shroud


And in my head I worked on easily

Creating my second home

A place where I could happily visit

When I felt solemnly alone


So I sat there once I’d finished

And looked around once more

But In reality my canvases

Lay untouched on the floor


One thought on “Inspiration, My Cold Friend

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