Restoring My Soul

There was a time when Writing -
Came as easily as Air.
The Muse within me danced her Dance -
flowers in her hair.
Then college came a-knocking,
and the critics; and the fear.
The Muse within me danced her Dance.
But I refused to hear.
Five years of lonely sorrow
in a place where none would see.
The Muse within me danced a Dance
and faded to memory.
Now every day I search my Soul -
and strain to hear her sing.
I see the Dance the Muse has danced
only in my dreams.