It used to be so easy

Writing down poetry

The ideas would just come to me

And be captured on paper instantly

 

I think of the way things used to be

When I was more creative and free

I’d stay out all night writing poetry

Thinking of beauty and philosophy

 

I used to stare up into the sky at night

At stars and the moon aglow with soft light

Swinging higher to reach them with all of my might

In a peaceful world free of rules and strife

 

On these quiet nights my Muse would appear

Using rustling leaves and squeaking bats to whisper in my ear

Showing me that the darkness is beautiful and not to fear

Moving me to write about the night to which I held dear

 

I’m not sure why those days came to an end

I miss looking to the moon as a faraway friend

But as I grow older it seems I see the night less

Too focused on work or science or passing a test

 

If only I could go outside every night again

To enjoy the wonders of evening and the calm silence

Maybe my Muse would come back to me then

And let me write with depth passion.