Where Muses Sleep
When poets die and leave this world
Does their muse just simply retire?
Or do they move from poet to poet,
Looking for one to inspire?
Does their work just go unfinished,
As the poet creates his art?
Do they miss the letters they once commanded,
Deep in the poet's heart?
Do they get together and talk of the past,
Like a muse's celebration?
Do they talk about their finished work,
And their poet's jubilation?
Or is there a place where muses go,
Like a Muse's Hall of Fame?
A place that's built for inspiration,
Where muses have a name?
Or do they simply just cease to exist,
And buried some place deep?
In a place to rest forevermore
A place where muses sleep
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