With pen in hand I’m on the brink,
But for some strange reason
My mind’s gears won’t clink.
Today’s motivation can find no link
To words in the air as my heart starts to sink.
No words are coming: this column will stink.
To conjure the Muses I wink and I blink,
But somewhere there smiles a big fat fink
Keeping all the words in an invisible rink,
Guarding them as though a fabulous mink.
Perhaps I need an ice cold drink
To down all my vitamins loaded with zinc.
Then my pen will race into the pink!
But alas! It’s just too darn hot to think!