Poetry

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It was time to write a reflection,
a rumination or two.
So I reached on the shelf for the box
where I keep my words, old and new.

But to my dismay, yes to my chagrin
my box of words, trusty and true
was empty, as empty as empty can be
and I wondered, “what now shall I do?”

So I went to the fridge (a favorite move
when puzzled, bumfuzzled, confused)
And pulled out the carton marked “Creative Juices”
but found it bone-dry, fully used…

So what is a writer, a poet, a preacher
to do when there’s nothing to say?
Beats me! But I think I’ll just go to bed
and shoot for another day!

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