I wish i hadn't spurned my Lover
for she has turned me away
as if i were a lowly cur;
I am an infidel unworthy
of her indulgent affections.
I dropped her as if she were
a heavy burdensome brick
that hurt my hands,
scorned her delightful advances
went rushing to Responsibility's summons.
I turned truant just when
she chose to bestow me with
her most generous gifts:
divine flashes of inspiring grace:
ideas racing to lend themselves to poems.
And now when time is on my side
she refuses to return.
The gushing torrent of her blessings
has run dry with neglect.
I despair for deliverance from this dreary drought.