My Muse

 

the barren white sheet
glints
withering  reproach

i feed gaping silence
with household trivia

will her to come

it is a scary thing
a lonely thing
 the absence of my Muse

i have to trust

she does come

sometimes bold and brash
joyous
furious
lamenting

sometimes creeping up
from behind
soft slow footsteps

wraps herself around me
an invisible cloak
a warm deep duvet
a secret lover
hugging
hovering
humming
tugging
always there
even in a crowd

till i give her my voice
tell  her tale
of  joy
sorrow
passion

the tale floats away
free to do
what it will
find its own life

we too are free
my Muse and i

till next time

April 2019