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Poem: December Third


moments after midnight
my muse nudges me hard
I ignore her prodding
pretend I’m still dreaming
she’ll have none of my game
kicking me wide awake

she smiling triumphant
whispers poetic thoughts
too fast to comprehend
glorious words vanish
spinning into darkness
and bouncing down the stairs

I follow picking verbs
and scattered adjectives
up off the hardwood floors
trying to recreate
fading metered phrases
before they slip away

madly I start typing
begging for my sweet muse
to sing her song again…
there is only cold silence
from my warm bedroom where
she now lays sleeping

she is dreaming of new
ways that she can tease me
entice me, excite me
lead me a merry chase…
And I will willingly
submit to her calling.

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