Gone Fishing

It’s not where I left it
I swear it’s around
One moment the spark’s lit
Then ashes abound
The juices were gushing
Overflowing my mind
Then sit at this keyboard
And echoes I find

My muse has gone AWOL
Won’t fascinate, enthrall
The colours are muted
The trumpet won’t call
No toes are a’tappin’
No laughter’s head-turning
With no bubble of fancy
No way of discerning

What has happened to all those creative ideas?!?

All well, no poems today…
…have gone fishing…