Rest, she said & left me, one morning in July,
for I was weary & heartsore in these mad, Covid times.
I rested, like she told me, watched time pass slowly by
& only now has she returned, delighting in this rhyme.
Hello, I said, How are you? She smiled, was almost shy,
I’ve barely written since you left. My thoughts are too confined.
The words just won’t obey me. The rhythm won’t comply.
I’ve tried & failed & tried again, but now I am resigned
to being mediocre. Instead I watch the skies
& leaves & grass & trees. Drink far too much white wine.
Binge-watch TV. Read favourite books, & slowly realise
that I am done with blogging … I know, she laughed, that’s fine,
In fact, quite sensible & wise
to simply walk away. Discover other avenues where you can really shine.
Well thanks, I said, I’m really glad that you can sympathise,
but after all, why should you not – you’re only in my mind.