My Muse From the Cupboard
I have stored flights of fancy, since the day I was born
There's a place in the cabinet, filled with all of my schemes
Battered, and chipped, and dusty with childhood
Cups filled to the brim with castles and dreams
Displaying white veils, and dresses of satin, cradles sweet babes, before they are born
It glows with a candle, that lights up a window, a light that is soft as freshly washed hair
It is fragile and slippery as a wet bar of soap, spilling with worry, and dreaded disease
There are angels, and demons, and whatever I please
It remembers the sun, on a cold winter’s night
And opens old books, with pressed flowers inside
With a trip to the stars, on a hot afternoon,
A carrot, turned pencil…with seeds to be heard
I carry it with me, where my poems grow green words
I have carried my muse, it has helped me to learn
It is worth more than gold, and although it is worn
It lights up my soul, when the world's feeling cold…
It's what made me a poet, since the day I was born…
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Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
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