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*Many days without a muse.
Whatever shall I do?
Too long away from poetry
and sans a point of view
The moon has been so beautiful.
But words just would not come.
The sunrise has been glorious
the sunsets strike me numb.
Romance is in the air tonight.
Perhaps a muse will see...
And strike a chord that gives
a voice to verses now in me.
I close my eyes and see much more
than sight can ever see.
Colors swirl behind my lids
and rainbows, vividly.
Butterflies and hummingbirds
a ship of clouds glides by
Howling wolves in the wilderness
a pink and azure sky
And so, I find I need no sight
to find my inspiration.
The mind is far more "visual"
and gives its own sensation.*
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