When It Rained Inspiration

If only...

When it rained inspiration,
my pencil learned to fly.
And my friend, Imagination,
ducked in where it was dry.

She sat down at my table
I poured us up some tea,
I asked if she was able,
would she mind helping me.

Of, course she had no trouble
teaching me to write.
So, quick and on the double
I grabbed some paper, white.

She paced the floor to and fro,
my pencil showed new skill,
we wrote until a rainbow
knocked on my windowsill.

Soon, the storm had ended
and the clouds had blown away,
and Imagination, as I feared,
had nothing left to say.

But, my pencil earned her wings
and me, the Nobel Prize,
and Imagination went away
with tears still in her eyes.