• Oh, sweet inspiration,
    Where are you?
    To even write a hymn,
    You seem to flutter off,

    Like a faerie of some sort,
    Only one so gifted can see,
    To touch, to capture, to take as their own
    But you always flutter from me!

    And oh, how I need you,
    But oh, it’s you I hate,
    When with quill in hand,
    You come a moment to late

    You seem to haunt my dreams,
    Only for me to forget,
    What was it you plagued me with?
    I can’t remember yet…

    Worse yet,
    When I need to dream,
    You keep me up till I write,
    It makes me want to scream,

    Oh, sweet inspiration,
    What have I committed to anger you?
    What sin?
    A sin against poetry, is there such a thing?

    There must be!
    Only for you to torture me so,
    Oh, why can’t you see?
    Or maybe you aren’t so blind…

    Oh, what a cruel thing,
    But oh, it’s what I need,
    I suppose I should shut my mouth,
    Just let you pull me by your odd lead.