Thy Muse

Short & sweet poem. Speaks about my need to write. Perhaps a little something every writer should at least glance at..

Have you ever found your talent
Lying beneath the layers of life?
The converse of fire, never smothered,
Merely veiled under those stratums.

The muse, she waits, and whispers
verbal machinations eager to find form...

Never promising she'll be there when I beckon.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed