She is an occasional companion of mine
-- a strange but welcome companion.
If only I knew her name,
I would call out to her and she might hear,
and she might choose to visit me for an hour or two.
That old name the ancients gave her
is not her true name.
I have tested its sounding,
called to her in the midnight hour,
but she answered it not.
Perhaps it's been so long since man called,
she's forgotten the evocative sound of her identity.
I will charm her with a new and beautiful sound,
next time she touches me.
She is an occasional companion,
and when she's close to me
she never fails to inspire my mood.
In her presence,
my thoughts take on an ordered expression,
rising and falling in a steady metred tide,
and nature smiles with life
reflected through human words.
In a literate world with billions of pens
scribbling daily notes of passion,
a poet may tire of words
and seek solace in silence.
But this poet will never tire of you,
my strange, occasional and ever-welcome companion.
2
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The muse?
Tomfoolery33
Level 9
May 19, 2018
1
Absolutely, you guessed it! Though of course I prefer the real ones who come dressed in flesh!
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