My mind was a world

Where words ran free:

Now they've all run off

And abandoned me.

 

They're all still there

And I see them all

But now they don't come

To me when I call.

 

I'm walking a tightrope,

In thrall to the word,

In search of the right trope,

My life is absurd.

 

Perhaps I have now lost

What I did not know I had.

I never counted the cost,

Now I'm bereft and sad.

 

I seriously ask myself

If I should put down my pen.

But then I'd be left on the shelf:

So I'd have to pick it up again.