You are my muse,
sitting in the branches,
presiding over me
as I write
beneath the tree.
You are my muse;
I make love to you
in my journal.
I turn the pages
of our bed,
and write you
between the sheets.
You are my muse,
gazing down at me
from above.
Dangling your long,
golden strands.
I smell them.
I taste them.
I write you.
You are my muse,
the one with whom
I obsess.
You are my life.
My life is this poetry.
You are my poem.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
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6 comments:
Whoever she is, she must be great to inspire this! I really like the last line, which ties everything together.
You are my muse;
I make love to you
in my journal.
I turn the pages
of our bed,
and write you
between the sheets
this stanza is my favourite. :)
keep writing.
Romantic. Tender. Devoted.
^_^
sometimes we write what we feel
sometimes we write what perceive
if it is the former, you must feel great
:)
sigh..she is so lucky!
and yes..gulnaz's fav verse is mine too!
you have poured your soul into this..
beautiful..
I love the whole poem...its really amazing very different from your other poems...You have amazed us over here
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