What happens when
that lush green valley of ideas
begins to dry out in a drought
and you awake with no inspirations
to sparkle in the morning sun?
Life is like a dried up river bed
waiting for a spring tide
to water new growth.
Each day you thirst for the water
to bring forth the fountain of ideas
that will make you feel whole again.
What happens when it doesn't
and how do you cope
with part of your life gone?
The answer eludes you
as each day stretches on.
All you can do is hope
you will wake up one morning
with words teeming out in a flood.
2-3 January 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem