I have missed the morning ritual,
the gentle coaxing of words
from my sleepy subconscious,
the quest for image and rhyme.
The challenge met, there is a void
where discovery used to dwell,
a sense of loss, a loss of senses
honed to a comfortable habit.
There is no challenge now,
only the joy of knowing
the poem is already written.
I just need to remember it.
Perhaps I won’t be writing them every day anymore, but I guess the morning poem is a habit now.
And, understandably, a hard habit to break. This what happens when you stir the Muse; she will carry on creating and will demand release! Thanks for sharing.
I’ve come to love my little circle of international friends, and posting poems, I guess – as often happens – challenges can lead to changes we never expected! 🙂