I lay my pen to rest,
As duties call with force.
My stories, half-possessed,
Must wait without remorse.
The clock ticks by, unkind,
As hours fade to black.
My heart aches in my mind,
For words I cannot track.
The sacrifice I make,
Is bitter, though it’s true.
But life is mine to take,
And writing must fall through.
So I’ll bide my time and wait,
For moments to return.
And till that hour is fate,
My pen must lay and yearn.