When It Rained Inspiration

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.