The Elusiveness of the Muse

Staring at a blank white sheet,
Of paper; clean and crisp.
Stories waiting to be told,
But my muse I've somehow missed.

Thoughts chasing one another,
That's no good, this won't do.
A ready mind waiting for inspiration,
But instead emptiness echoes through.

Holding in my hand,
A pencil; nice and sharp.
Waiting for words to flow,
But to no avail; my creativity's warped.

I chase my elusive muse,
Trying to coax it out with music or art.
Hoping for some small sign,
Of inspiration; from my mind or heart.

Staring at a blank white sheet,
Of paper; clean and crisp.
Stories waiting to be told,
But my muse I've somehow missed.