Offended

I sit ready, pen in hand hovering above the lightly lined page. Any second now. Any moment it will come. The muse will shine upon me and I will write! But no, it is not to be. I have offended her, I believe. Perhaps it was because I tore up so many pages of poetry (it was horrible stuff really) and threw it in the trash when I was a young tike in my very early teens. MUSE! I am sorry. Please give me another chance!