The Last Verse

What happens on that morning When I awaken - so forlorn And realize for certain I have lost! I am tired and worn? The golden calm of times gone by Has left my heart and mind, And the gift God gave me yesterday Is trailing far behind. What happens when the pen I hold Writes not one single line... My eyesight dims, the hours grow dark And my talents no longer shine? A sudden decline to face alone. On obsession, I'd close the door. No need then to find the right word I could 'rest on my laurels' And worry no more.