My Muse is gone, she upped and left
Quite suddenly one day.
Thoughts had flowed from mind to page
But now I’m just bereft.
With leaden spirits, uninspired,
The ideas just won’t come.
All these words, so which to choose?
My heart is feeling numb.
There’s no expression I can find
To write of my despair,
Just a blank and empty space,
No thoughts to leave behind.
The much maligned and hopeless child
Who left without a word.
She scampered off to warmer climes,
And so my wrath incurred.
Between the lines unwrit ‘till now,
I find my thoughts grow clear.
Dear Eff, forsake that foreign cave
You’re badly needed here.
I never thought to end this pome
With such a heartfelt plea.
Hopeless though you are, dear Muse,
We miss your poetry.
Boadicea's Chariot 
Thank you, Arrers. 🙂
(Effin’ good, but I’m not allowed to comment yet!)
Love the title, love the poem.
RE: photo- That’s a funny game of tennis they’re playing. Some kind of shovel shot in progress.
No problem, Janus. 🙂
JW. Thank you.
Horrible game; it’s even worse than hockey!
Great game, lacrosse. Very exciting to watch.
I shall, of course, inform dear Eff
Of your most heartfelt plea.
You’ll understand it’s up to her
what her response will be.
She may decide to leave The Cave
for dismal Hen~er~ley
But she is kept quite busy here
As you can plainly see.
And there again she may decide
That Portugal’s quite good
On balance given the alternative
Is rain and British food.
OZ
Seems you never know what you’ve lost – ’til it’s gone!
Oh, C*ltic!
Make that “…response….” and “…here…”
I’ve broken my specs and have to borrow the NSW’s when she’s here.
Sob!
OZ
Wonderful, OZ, thank you! 🙂
Boadicea, well yes, how true. All that effort to get rid of her!
Many thanks for all the “likes”; much appreciated. 🙂