To all those ideas which are screwed up, spat out and shredded.
How I miss you when my creative juices stop flowing
and my mind stops giving.
To all those thoughts which are forgotten, scribbled down and tucked away.
How I miss you when my mind can’t formulate
and creativity has taken the day off.
To all those songs, drawings, puns, poems and stories.
How I miss you when my tongue no longer wants to speak
and my hands can’t bare to draw.
But I know it's just temporary.