My Slumbering Muse
My Slumbering Muse
My slumbering Muse in her hidden dreams
Has slept still beside me and not stirred,
And though in shallow sleep, or so it seems,
Has not woken and spoken a single word.
Or, laying abed with me, not conceived
To enlighten me with a useful rhyme.
I ask for poetic themes to be weaved,
But my silent Muse sleeps a long, long, time.
How, then, do I arouse my resting Muse?
Shall I now, gentle, wake her with a kiss,
And whisper that her dreams hold rhymes to choose?
And to share those dreams is poetic bliss.
Or, annoyed, shall she wish her dreams to keep,
Turning to one side to resume her sleep?
10/02/17
Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2017
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