My Muse

my muse

can hardly raise her heavily burdened head

chiding herself for not inspiring something all anew

there is only so much sorrow

to darken the day with

there is only so much joy to wet and wash it away with

and though sometimes

she paints a familiar theme

an oft defining scene

i am if anything a canvas

full of depth and blankness bereft

never left wanting

never left without

a touch of her healing colours