When Muses Die

We buried a muse the other day

For a poet laid down his quill

He said he'd never write again

For he simply refused to feel

Muses came from miles around

To tell their friend goodbye

Inspiration was everywhere

You should have heard them cry

They buried him in a special place

Up on Inspiration Hill

Paper flowers covered his grave

His tombstone was his quill

No one knows where muses go

When poets refuse to write

Maybe they simply disappear

Or maybe follow the light

The next time you get your writer's block

And you're feeling empty inside

Your inspiration has gone to a funeral

For another muse has died

Coutesy of Whiskurz
http://www.writerscafe.org/Larry B