Sonnet For My Muse
Alone, on my own, with no one to show;
no one to share, no one to care.
My muse, she feeds my hungry craves;
her gifts, are in my notebooks, saved.
My muse, she paints; in quiet space;
reflects on things, within life’s race.
Through time and space, she does meander;
creating schemed, as to her viewpoint, I pander.
Filling pages, with storied delights
and painting dreams, I have at night.
In nooks and crannies, secrets lie;
of course, a few, will always hide.
It’s my prerogative, you see;
and that’s the way, I’ll always be.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015
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