and i go to the desk

sit down and prepare

reach for my pen

and its just not there

where did it go?

is the cosmic question

that all poets ask

Where is my pen

that promotes such writings of life

that makes others smile or cry

at the written word

What can i do to make something

from the muddle in my head

so clinically confused

diagnosed and deprived

I'm at a crossroads

without a pen

a beautiful sunset

with no camera

a symphony

with no ears

I am a poet

without a pen.