For days my world seemed empty,
as the words had flown
never it seemed to return.
Then I woke up this morning
and they were back again.
As if by magic,
my pen did not want to stop writing again.
The words are flowing again
like water from a full open tap,
so fast sometimes
that I can barely get them down on paper
before the next lot come around.
Where they being stored for just this certain day?
I do not care for the answer
only that they are back again
and my pen is overflowing
once more with new ideas.
All I can do is hope they will not go away again,
at least for a little while.

David Harris

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/back-again-13/