Poem: The Fickle Muse

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My Muse is so fickle:
Here one day, gone the next.
Gets interrupted by stray thoughts
Distracted by shiny things
"Hold that thought, let's explore this!"
I can barely keep up with Her.
Inspiration comes and goes
when I need Her guidance
She holds up a finger and says,
"Not yet, not right now."
Then at three in the morning
She yells into my ear:
"Hey, here's an idea!"
The light bulb appears in dreams
that fizzle out when I wake.
But sometimes, just sometimes
She comes in and prods me in
the right direction.
I listen, she chatters on
and I take notes
with a smile.

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