I have a question . . .
I am full
Full of excuses
Full of ideas
Full of hesitation
Trepidation
Full cup
But of what?
Excitement check
Worry check
Creativity check
Strength?
I have a question
As much for myself as for you dear Muse
Do you have what it takes?
Can you do this?
Pause
Pregnant pause
Something is growing inside that mind of hers
Inside her creative soul
I can feel it.
It struggles to push out
to reach light outside of me
Growing ever so gently
subtle enough to breed uncertainty
hope
noticed
felt
noticed now
I ask her the question
Her frown turns quickly to a smile
She knows where this is leading
For I would not have asked the question if I did not believe there was a possibility of an answer different from what I feared.