Now, before I go any further; I probably better clarify.  For those of you familiar with the works of Angus and the guys, this isn’t about what you think.  She wasn’t that big and she was beautiful.

Once, long ago; I was a man deeply in love.  She was all you could imagine in love, kind, caring, passionate and wonderful.  She was my muse.  In fact, during the course of our romantic involvement, I wrote over 400 odes to that love.  She kept them all, napkins and notebook paper; pen, pencil or crayola, she didn’t care.  She kept them all.

As sometimes happens, we parted ways upon the road of life.  Each of us going our own way, sad, yet; knowing that, at the time, it was probably for the best.  Communication stopped, no more poetry, no more little flirtatious notes and sly smiles.

I fell in love and married, she continued along her path.

Now, I am an ardent monogamist.  One heart at a time, is all I can handle.  My wife and I had ten happy years together.  Yet, deep inside, that fire continued to smolder.  I thought of her occasionally during those years, a memory of a distant past.

After my Wanda passed, I received an email from my muse.  Just a short, “Hi, how are you?  How you been?”  kind of thing.  In a time of deep despair, she was the light at the end of the tunnel.

The poetry, which hasn’t stopped during thirty plus years of life, began to flow faster, almost as if a flood-gate had been opened.

She’s out there now, reading the words that flow from my fingers, commenting occasionally; mainly, just reading.  She tends to express her approval in a more, personal way.

I have friend and fans, Triond seems to be filled with people like myself; writer’s who like to read and gleen ideas and insight from others.  But, she; she is my longest running fan.  Four hundred poems that are bound in a notebook, shown to friends and family; yeah, I have a huge fan.