My Muse
My first love, a lovely girl then in her sixteen,
Floated across the corn fields dancing with breeze,
Wearing a short, flying frock with color of sea-green,
While dropping her gloves to trick her mom — police.
The scene grew in my heart, and I wrote my first piece.
On a gloomy, warm afternoon, I saw through trees
How she was conspiring with bees to cease our love,
To break our love, to beat our hearts, just to please
Her mom, and I saw our love, like a beaten dove,
Fly above, and I wrote the next poem asking how.
Here, she sits beside, having my head on her hips,
Hunting gray hares in a wood that has flying hairs,
And teasing me with tales ... by rounding her lips,
How I scribbled ballads on love in my nightmares.
I should write state-of-the-art piece on such affairs.
Oct. 14, 2020
.....and so I wrote a poem Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: john Lawless
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