Thought of late I was out of gas,

My muse had again gone on vacation,

Just, I do find, I have to let that time pass,

Then afterwards I will be again cooking with gas…

Now I cannot write enough,

Even though some are quite rough,

I leave them on a disc to ferment,

Better there than to write them in cement…

Used to love to write and drive,

But nothing seems to be flowing till home I arrive,

Sitting in the semi-solitude of my home with Rufuz,

Inhaling the scents of home and all his stinky fuzz…

So if I do miss a few days,

I am just whiling away my lazy daze,

Enjoying life as best I can,

Maybe just trying to get a cold winter tan…

        © ed ~ 1/12/05