Oh where oh, where art thou?

Seems my fellow writers’ inspiration is on a break
How so?
Well, they haven’t been writing in a long time
A very long time by their standards, ages for me

How would one write save they felt the need to write?
You feel an urge to write something down
It’s a channel of pouring out your insides, neatly
That feeling, that push
Somehow it has to be there for one to write
Prose it may be, free verse, or whatever
Write! Write!
Those words echo in my head
When I start I seldom stop
Not all is channelled through one outlet
At times I write to friends
Sometimes I write a poem to lift someone’s spirit
Write I must

But alas!
My dear friends are not in the mood right now
They have too much on their plate
They feel they shouldn’t let their thoughts right now be known
They feel they’ve lost that inner light
They don’t feel like writing
So, Inspiration where art thou?
My friends need you
I’m overwhelmed with you
Why dost thou sit by side all day long
All night long thou art by my side also
Maybe there’s some verse you need me to share
Maybe there’s a thread I’m not seeing
Maybe It’s not you Inspiration
That’s by my side right now
It could be cupid
But how so?
When did we last meet Cupid?
When did I last follow thy arrow?
No, it is not thou
It is Inspiration that has made his abode in my hands
Cupid’s knocking
Will I let him in?
Only if Inspiration promises to make his rounds once again
For if Cupid were to stay here like Inspiration
Oh, what a tragedy that could be
For when last Cupid and Inspiration abode at my hand
I did not cease writing till I almost wrote a book
Then they just left
Trot the globe they must
So that we long for their seasonal company
For if they stay here many hearts’ light will dim
And I will no longer enjoy their untimely company
Unplanned visits they need to pay to each one of us
And stay not for long perchance vain we become with words
And our heart’s always laid out bare.