Today, I have nothing to write about
No coherent thought from my chaotic mind
Nothing to rant, no axe to grind
No inspiration, it’s hard to find
Today, I have nothing to sing about
No tale of happiness, no tale of sorrow
No song about today, nothing about tomorrow
No tune I could steal, no tune I could borrow
Today, I have nothing to paint about
No ethereal vision, no enchanting sight
No beautiful rainbow, no playful light
No paint on my canvas, try as I might
Today, I had nothing to write about
But I did write, a poem of some kind
But I did write, and will write again on the morrow
But I did write, and now I feel alright
