Getting it Done

The page is blank and mocking;
I have no words to fill it.
If no idea comes knocking,
It’s not like I can will it.

I’m wiped out and I’m wearied.
The day’s been long and busy;
And if somebody queried,
I would say I’m almost dizzy.

Yet still, I have to finish
And compose my daily rhyme.
My sharpness might diminish
If I take a break in time.

I won’t harbor the illusion
That this poem will be the best,
But upon its near conclusion,
I’ll unwind, relax and rest.