Prisoner Of The Pen

"Last letters fall off a lonely page, punished the pen
 sits silent, recovering from past strokes of sage."

Bluebirds sing along with Springs triumphant return
red and yellow tulip's splendor fall out in front of me
my inquisitive mind inhales nature's fresh awakening
as my pen stares off aimlessly to another place in time

Write for me they plead, but my muse has gone to sleep
hardened by yesterday's trials, I remain empty and weak
these eyes reach out towards where the butterfly flutter
but my heart floats away up into the recesses of the sky