It is not the Muse <br />to whom I write, but you. <br /> <br />Let your imagination run wild, <br />forget the here and now. <br /> <br />Watching you dance <br />makes me smile. <br /> <br />Afternoon brings a lull, <br />a stolen moment. <br /> <br />A jumble of legs, <br />we are starfish! <br /> <br />A bath to sooth your ache, <br />a plume wafts from warmth to warmth. <br /> <br />I set out to touch the moon, <br />it looks so near. <br /> <br />Poetry is separated from nothing <br />by a thought.<br /><br />Hanque O . . .<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-from-the-saddle/
