''Muse''
I can hear my muse weep and sigh;
I just listen and don't ask why.
her touch feels like a burning fire
and it's forever there to inspire.
she visits me in the cool of the morn
by the brooks where I was born.
there she reveals her magic powers
where I await among the lovely flowers.
she'll be my muse till I am gone and dead,
when my poems are famous and well-read.
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