Writes
The muse calls me
In dreamy shades
Of hints I see
To churn verse trade.
I sit in place
Where darkness floods
To find sweet trace
In surge of blood.
Writes come to me
As weary feel
Waits to be free
Where slumber heals.
Words that I cite
Come as waves surge
To press my dyke
As feelings urge.
I script odd thoughts
With simple ease
To string my lot
With easy lease.
Rhymes come to mind
With curious flow
As motif finds
Cast light that shows.
Chimes in brief pause
Dance with meaning
As if the cause
Drains fond crafting.
In the deep dark
Words fling discrete
To light a spark
In touch concrete.
The muse knows well
This surge of trance
That screams to tell
Of mortal dance.
Leon Enriquez
18 September 2018
Singapore
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2018
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