Muse

A brief poem couched in rhymed couplets.

I can hear my muse breathe and sigh;

I just listen and don't ask why.

her touch feels like a magic fire

and it's forever there to inspire.

she visits me in the cool of the morn

by the brooks where I was born.

there she reveals her creative powers

where I await among the lovely flowers.

among the flowers by the brooks

beyond the hamlet and ruined rooks

I write all day for my daily muse,

for if I write she'll ne'er refuse:

she'll be my muse till I am dead,

when my poems are widely read.

Reviews

[Mary Bradley]

Beautifully written :-) .... wish I'd have a muse like you do , and write as beautifully as you ...

[Wordydistance]

The last couplet sounds off. How does your muse bring you/your speaker creativity? Last line makes this seem more like a wish than an actuality.