A Call for Ideas
I felt it best not to say a word,
Though a response bubbled and stirred,
A writing friend declared her creative well was dry,
All I could do is shake my head and sigh,
To her friends for ideas she made the call,
The response was good wishes but volume small,
I pondered replying, but of it, I thought better,
For surely if I had, it would be a scathing letter,
The fact is she’s a writer who doesn’t write,
For that reason, I have no pity for her plight,
She might occasionally journal here and there,
But her productivity is at best threadbare,
As a friend I know I shouldn’t rant,
But her writing outside journaling is frankly scant,
What reason is there for her muse to show?
When not writing is her status quo?
She proclaims that writing is important to her,
Yet her actions show she’s more like a poseur,
Bitching about a friend is a bit uncouth,
But my goodness, it’s the truth!
One day she’ll find her way back to paper and ink,
But right now, I’m not sure what to think,
Clearly, her call for ideas made me upset,
But silence is better than words I’d regret.