An Ode To My Muse
My muse, inspirations personified, does one confuse?
My shoulder naked, where once she sat, no,
she’s still there, yet silent I fear.
Even the power of telepathy gone. Have I done wrong?
Her eyes of jet, once I could read, blank me.
She turns, we both look out beyond infinity.
I know not what she seeks. I scan, but tis a void I see.
She turns again, looks into my eyes, I see India, Mumbai
A tear, a longing, she begs for me to say, goodbye.
I do, and heartbroken, I shed a tear, and look. then I ask, why?
Too late, she was gone. I looked again into the beyond.
Blew her a goodbye kiss. She will still be my muse.
For her spirit will always be my inspiration to write my poetry!
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