Midnight Muse

Sometimes in the night she creeps into my bed, Her unsuspecting target is my head. I lie awake and listen to her words, So often they ring true and new And full of promise. Sometimes her mind will change And I must ponder her meaning. Never bold and brash and angry But ever thoughtful, Sowing seeds that may prove fruitful, Or will they wither and be dead By morning light ? In deepest sleep perhaps, So many silent nights go by Without her coming in the darkness. Restive, I enjoy her welcome touch, Her words will echo in my head, Tumbling and turning, round and round, Then in excited fever, as in a trance, I reach out for my scribbling pad. Her words secured, I now relax, My mind once more returned To fitful dreaming. My wife, long suffering, now wide awake And restless in her marital bed, Asking herself "For goodness sake, Why did I a poet wed ?"