Always My Muse
Time and space,
maps measure the distance to face,
streams lead to rivers,
roads from city to sea,
only in dreams do we travel free.
No, you will learn nothing new from me,
for I think and write plainly,
my words mirror faintly my mind,
my spirit moves me,
to seek more deeply, scribe more finely,
but what I report
falls short of what I may find.
Comfort and grace,
often the path back I trace,
to when I but a schoolboy,
twelve years old, in my early chapter,
scrawled on a scrap of brown paper,
with a pencil too blunt to taper,
my first verses, inspired by love songs,
heard on the radio,
and ever since I have written,
my one gift I know will not go.
Whatever happens, my words will continue.
Always my muse, the woman stood on the stairway,
my name she says, gently,
to wake me, make me breathe surely,
feel warm, purely happy,
her smile upon me tells me she will not betray,
when her vision fades, she will stay.