I used to be able to write anytime I wanted

But that was then

Changes in my life and stress have taunted

The poetic soul that has been

No inspiration or motivationfill my heart

Words and ideas seem to flee

If I had to write I wouldn't know where to start

I've lost the greatest part of me

So now I edit other's work wishing it was my own

Pining over seeds that were never sown