Lost
Have been searching for my beloved poetic muse,
he left me while I slept;
and since then I have wept,
have looked in all his favorite green forest hues.
Without his whispers I have no inspiration to write,
I feel very alone;
with sorrow to the bone,
I need his stimulus so words and poetry can take flight.
Without inspiration I am unable to draw or paint,
my hand just holds the brush;
and my heart feels a hush.
oh, come back and I will not utter a complaint.
I must accept that our journey has ended,
oh, miss how you mutter;
to make my wings flutter,
in time my shattered heart will be mended.
Then, at dawn one day I felt a poetic spark,
he woke me with a kiss;
to fill my soul with bliss,
brushing tears away- he led me from the dark.
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August 4, 2020
Written for the contest, Be Inspired
sponsor, Regina Riddle
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2020
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