Reflecting on the Muse



Across the pages of my mind,
like a whisper in the dark;
linger words like fireflies
ignited by a tiny spark.

Maybe it’s a word or two
spoken from the heart
or maybe it’s a feeling
that makes these poems start?

No matter what the origin
from whence the ideas grow
‘fore long there’ll be a poem there
as words begin to freely flow,

And when the writing’s over
and the inkwell holds the pen
it won’t be long, I know, until
a spark begins to grow again.




                          july 2002