PoeticBiscuit

She Was My Muse

She was a muse,

And I was a writer.

 

Across oceans and mountains,

I traveled to find her.

 

She danced through the air,

Floating on mist,

 

Warming my heart,

With a butterfly kiss.

 

Every word that was spoken,

Felt like that of a song,

 

Voice of an Angel,

Could never go wrong.

 

Yes, she was my muse.

And I was a writer,

 

With a gasoline soul,

And she the lighter.

 

Explosive love

Sparks at a touch,

 

Electricity through bones,

Gave such a rush.

 

Yes she was my muse,

And I was her writer,

 

Nothing to lose,

Just filled with desire,

 

There she stayed,

For oh so long,

 

Not a word written,

Before she was gone.

Comments3

  • Goldfinch60

    Calliope is within us all who write poetry.

    Andy

  • Poetic Dan

    I wish I had more time to share my thoughts, but like many say (not easy to believe) you're a inspirational star!

    Keep up the write my friend!
    Always appreciated

  • L. B. Mek

    wonderful flow, good write



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