When I’m dejected, down- spirited, down hearted 

She’s right there inside of my mind

I’ll pick up my pen and I’ll scribble

On blank paper or sometimes on lined

I’ll scribe about the misty mountains 

And of majestic eagles soaring above

I’ll tell stories of shattered dreams and promises 

Compose verses of falling in love

Tales I will write of tomorrow

Of us and how we are fated

And of all of the times we’ll share 

When her sweet heart I have liberated 

I’ll weave beautiful words so intricately 

That will leave her holding her breath

And create butterflies in the pit of her stomach

And a pounding deep in her chest

The thought of her inspires me

She’s my poetry that I’d peruse

Without her I wouldn’t pen half as much 

I’m lucky I have her as my muse


4 thoughts on “Muse

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