A-muse-d She may be
Each day, when I so
Desperately seek her out.
She smiles, at the nick of time.
Graciously lets me swagger
(in the belief I masterminded them)
In the surfeit of words she shares.
She brings Magic, she does.
Even I, in my arrogance,
The kind that stretches
Past spells cast to
Invoke, evoke, rebuke, choke…
She stays, companionably,
Inclining her sagacious head
Watching me chisel and hone a notion.
I might not acknowledge her,
Yet she lingers, a sheen in her gentle eyes
That you could mistake for moisture.
Happy? Pride? The ramble
Maybe the cold shoulder I give
Could be it, too.
How she waits, so patient…
But the walls are up
And the gates are locked…
Till that desperate cry, for help
Leaks out, faintly.
She fixes her smile,
Waits upon the whims
And allows the rambler
To think she, herself, is the Muse.
(13 April, 2018, Day#13 of #NaPoWriMo, 2018)
(Repost- here the earlier posting of this, with beautiful comments by Gulshan and Govind – LINK)
Serendipitous, nothing less, that the word Muse was chosen for today. However, she’s iffy today 🤗 All she gave me, was a reminder, in the form of this verse, from three years back, to the date!
The art, thankfully, is fresh! ☺️😀
13 April, 2021, Day#13 #Napowrimo 2021