Deriving a new piece evades both mind and hand and night provided parasomnia rather than inspiration.
Closed eyes and open ears cannot yet sense a chord in accord with harmony, leaving this key player’s tmesis experienced as a frustrated com-dis-position.
Patience tires as mind pleads for postponement, but write notes burgeon when watered with persistence.
Face lit with more than light, fingers are ready to dance. Neither gloopy nor gloomy, newborn melody echoes whence there was a hole, now, hope. : )