Musing

Where has my poetry flown?
It is at this moment on the 
Tip of my tongue, at the tip
Of my fingers. Not quite ready
To emerge as song or theme.
Waiting for inspiration can be
A long wait, yet wait I must 
Til it marches forth in words
Both poignant and colorful.
I hope for poetry's wings and
Yes, I wait with the fortitude of
A writer whose muse is near.