She patiently watches with eyes of coal.
Peering over his shoulder, through his soul.
She patiently watches him boiling gold;
His words to her, slowly crafted, unfold.
An ethereal whisp is all she is.
A whisper on the wind, a dream of bliss,
A touch of love and broken promises,
Memories and longings that burn to kiss.
The muse’s lips softly curl in a smile,
Watching her reason for being beguile.
His aesthetic prose, his constructed style-
Pouring forth, pulsing, flowing like the Nile.
At the end of the day, work put away,
So too is she, she can no longer stay.
For a Poet’s heart will too often stray,
And a Muse’s is too quick to give way.
Into another night, lost, unconsoled,
Left to want and wander in mute remiss.
Searching for someone, aching to inspire;
A true bond which will not lead to dismay.
sigh. it’s not perfect, but i’m done with it..
rewrote the first line/last stanza, will correct recording later..