Shut

The words don't come,
  don't slide off the fingers.
They don't rhyme, don't
  hop up in down in the head.
The words are stilled,
  by something within.
It's not a worry, just a day,
  for writing anything or
Nothing at all. It may be
  a day for silence, or a walk.
Maybe it just needs a rest,
  the words will come later.