The Day I Wrote Nothing

Now a story short
A day no words were written
A day of delay

Does it have meaning?
Does refrain carry reason?
Or the well run dry?

The stories exist
The Storyteller's pen dried
The Bard's song silent

But never to me
Ne'er when I wanted to write
Was I without words

Breeze gone and becalmed
Pirates whisper of these times
The four winds held back

Was this day foretold
When inspiration like stones
Sink beneath the depths?

As those in my trade
I let silence be the tale
The Muse's tight lips

"Must she always speak?
Her man hears her more clearly
When silence deafens."

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