Waiting


I sit here waiting for inspiration to come,
Like parched earth waiting for rain, 
Flowers waiting for sun.
I wait for the voice to fill the void,
To shout above the silence
Or filter out the noise.
I wait for those juices to start to flow,
For something I can grasp, 
For the seeds that I can grow.
Creativity isn’t for the meek of mind, 
She’s a gift, a spell, a favour,
She’s something you can’t find. 
She’s mystical and magical, a lady of the night, 
She comes to you when she’s ready, 
When she feels the moment’s right. 
Relinquish your control, let go and let her play,
You can’t rush that perfect moment,
When she shows you what to say. 
I sit here waiting for inspiration again, 
Like snow caps for the sun, 
And deserts for the rain. 

By: T.J. Ruberto 2021

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