O Sweet Erato

muse of poetry

As I slumber

Deep in desirable dreams

She comes

With lyre in hand

Her song is purest poetry

Gifted by Apollo

And drawn by Zeus’ hand

O’ sweet melody

She serenades my soul

Whispering verses

Still longing to be made manifest

Her fragrance compels me

To dream her beauty

And inspires greatness

In corners of minds

Only muses can occupy

Daintily she places myrtle

Around my bed

And rouses me to dance

In her glorious creation

O’ sweet Erato

 

 

 

Reviews

[Poetic Justice]

I heard the lyre so softly in this realm of perfect ancient amber bliss,

Always a pleasure to be here.


E.L.

[Poetic Justice]

thank you x

A pleasure love always! x

[Eloha]

This has so much melody of the Gods! Can you submit a few into the contest linked on my page?