…and the music died

Poised on paper the pen ponders pensively
waits for words to flow uninhibitedly
but my constricted throat won’t let them pass

A sad tune plays plaintively in my head
the notes refuse to grace the white sheet that’s spread
poised on paper the pen ponders pensively

The heart feels emptied of all its contents
the mind is a cauldron of simmering intents
I wait for words to flow uninhibitedly

There’s rain that falls inside but eyes don’t stream
waiting for words is a sisyphean dream
‘cos my constricted throat won’t just let them pass.

Written for Sadje’s wdys.