Words that flow incomprehensibly
Fall as tear drops on paper
Seem to arrange themselves right
Ready to be placed in proper sight
Does my muse wake me at day or dreams?
In the closeness of rush hour
My breathe exhales with yours
Waiting for the exit stop to arrive
Crescendo touched and halts at stoop
As lovers part, a magnum opus emerges
Sadness fills the writer’s own,
For now he does not understand
His spirit, language of emotion said
Never to return where his muse had led
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 Scribbles:
So true...
Never to return where his muse led.
You can't ever like in the same way again...but then dats cause with each turn you change and your writing changes and u can never go back.
@Prude: and once that emotion is out you forget how it felt, cause the result makes u feel differently about it!
Post a Comment