Our little dog’s nudged in beside my hip
As I sit in my easy chair and sip
A steaming cup of café latte brew
While hoping for the Muse news to come through.
Lapboard and pad await my pen’s first stroke
While I consider rhyming words to stoke
Imagination’s fires till I divine
The right route to proceed in every line.
Now she’s hopped down, and I’m left on my own
To fathom what’s still in the twilight zone,
Imagination’s stuff, and ponder on it
Until at last I’ve polished off this sonnet.
I’ve nearly reached the bottom of my cup,
And now my morning musing time is up.