Courting The Muse

Midnight fancies, on the tip of my wings,

Soaring on a wayward thought,

In a sacred silence, my spirit sings,

The empty space is fraught,

 

Crowded moment, on my poet’s brain,

Conundrum of my choice,

Half remembered, lost refrain,

Encompasses my voice,

 

On the edge of reason, with a wild hope,

Leaping into the abyss,

My drowning muse is thrown a rope,

And a tender lover’s kiss,

 

Wrapped in the glory, of scarlet ink,

Written on my skin,

A tiny dream each time I blink,

Of places I have been,

 

Saturated in the musk, of dripping prose,

Leaves honey on my lips,

Writhing in my head, her passionate throws,

As again my pen hand dips,

 

Into the ink well, below her county line,

Where the rainbow rides the sky,

With a turn of phrase, I will make her mine,

And swallow her lustful sigh.

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