Wooing the Muse
“Come, whisper at my window”, I plead.
(I promise her I’ll heed,
but she continues silent, unimpressed.)
I offer up some diamonds,
black velvet sky and moon glow,
but still, she fails to come at my behest.
“Starlight, fireflies, mermaids, blue skies…?”
She shakes her head and smiles at me, bemused.
“You’re easy to refuse”, I hear her say,
“when all you proffer up is pure cliché”.
I ache to offer glory, but my mind’s a vacuous void.
I’m broken and destroyed,
(while she is mildly annoyed).
Each gift I offer up, she just eschews.
Sometimes it’s best to go to bed –
let her invade another head –
accept that there’ll be days she’ll just refuse.
Believe she’ll come another day,
seeking out a mate for play.
Tonight, my friend,
you just can’t woo this muse.