Sometimes training that little monkey muse can be the most frustrating thing in the world. Here’s to that struggle:
Hello sir, it’s you sir, Mr. Creativity.
I see sir, you’re a sir, sir,
a him not a her, sir.
A mister, no sister, a mister quite sure.
So I see, yes I see, quite the shock this is to me.
Understand how now, this is a surprise
to be meeting a man when I was none the wise.
I’d always thought there was a Mrs.
swimming around up there with the fishes,
and light bulbs and thoughts, and ideas and wishes,
inside of my brain, that crickety ‘ol train,
yet you’re clearly most definitely
certainly no dame.
Although I don’t know how
you sir, are a dude, sir,
it’s quite nice to acquaint, to meet, and to greet, sir.
You finally showed up, I’ve been waiting and waiting,
my face has been aging, my age has been dating.
The date has been fading, the trees have been changing,
the change has been saging, the sages are waiting
with me, and advising,
patience and peace, and to love, and to cease
with my impatient foot and it’s incessant tapping,
to stop all the flapping, start napping not rapping,
my knuckles and hands on each surface I see,
stay still and just BE, so they say to me.
But I just can’t seem to unclench my teeth
that are grating while waiting,
and waiting, and waiting.
You’ve taken forever, you’re finally here,
and the funny thing is, after all of that wear,
and tear of the wait,
I’d say that I’m fine I’m awesome I’m great,
doing without having you here,
please go about your business elsewhere,
Go away, scat, be gone,
cuz you’re finally here.
And guess what sir??
I really don’t care.