I sometimes wish I had a Muse

To call my very own;

Ideas and images will begin to fuse

Into stories that are well honed.

                       x

Though when the night time dims to grey

And the sun begins to filter through;

I find my Muse has gone away

Leaving me without a clue.

                        x

The evening comes and she returns

Wearing her golden gown;

As I write I forget to ask of her sojourns

While I make sure the words get wrote down

                        x

Again the night time parts to the days natural light

And yet I do not know where she goes

Though my Muse is such a beautiful sight

I think it best no one knows…