Muse

 The silence of the darkest hour,

The blinking stars and arc moon,

All witness the poetry that flew, 

Like a waterfall brushing against the rocks, 

Sheets crumbled up everywhere, 

A lamp flickering in the breeze; 

The ticking clock and whirling fan, 

Was the ink against the paper?

Every day, a new love was found, 

Every night, the solitude scribbled poetry.

Every night was key to the lock 

Of the day's dream of secret desires.

And every night she wished for miracles, 

For every day she lived.

Eyes shining in hope and prayers, 

She wished upon the universe 

"For once, just for once, 

Let me be a muse, 

In someone else's poetry."

© Suranya