The Muse
I remember it well when in the summer evenings
I went to see her we drank wine and made love
Embraced we slept to morning light.
Stay with me she said to rest a bit longer I will serve you tea
No, I wanted to go home savour the night in privacy
Feed the dog, go for a walk and write about my love for her.
It ended like a morning dream; she had found a man who
Drank her tea and stayed with her till he was too old
And she sent him to an old people’s home.
She had been my muse lives in my poems, but no,
I didn't want to stay with her a painter rarely marries his model
But she will always be there hanging in some gallery
Or on the wall in the lobby of some hotel.