Writing ideas seem to have dried up lately. Could this be the end of the line for me?

It’s five o’clock in the morning
And I’m sitting here in my bed,
With notebook and pen before me
And not a single thought in my head.
I wanted creative words to write.
A great poem I hoped they would be,
But sadly my imagination
Seems to have deserted me.
*
I’ve wracked my brain for ideas
Of topics not tackled before,
But I’ve written of my travels and dreams
And my family and hometown galore.
I’ve written many a humorous ditty
And of the moon and the sun in the sky,
And I covered my hubby’s adventures,
And I didn’t really have to try.
*
But now that I’m poised for action
Why are there no ideas to hand,
That can be scribbled upon my page
And on which I can later expand?
Maybe the poet within me
Has come to the end of its line
And I’ll have to find another hobby
On which I can spend my time.
*
Christine Ramsay
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