When I have writers block, sometimes it becomes my subject. This is one of my older poems now, but the fact that I can still read it suggests it may have some longevity in it. What do you think?

 

Alone, I sit in silence with no pen,
Remembering the times we used to share.
Soft trickling words would bubble up ’till when
A melody would surface in the air.

A song! What joy: when words begin to live
In simple melodies that kiss the ear.
A memory long thought to be outlived
Released upon the cheek within a tear.

Emotion from the past, a feeling now,
A fleeting moment captured in a song.
The chorus of the mind shall take a bow
And in the heart it’s praises shall live on.

Now all that was is bated once again
Without the music of that silent pen.