I’ve not been blessed with muse’s grace,
She hasn’t come to my embrace.
She’s not my guide, no matter plea,
However much I wished to see.

She appeared but for a fleeting glance,
Creating whirls in her dance.
Her wing brushed my cheek so tender,
Pale blush on my face did render.

Fair and loving, she’s alluring,
The temptress of my dreaming.
Is she a fairy or a witch’s lair?
I’m unsure which, in truth, is there.

I can’t help but be selfish, I confess,
I want her presence, no more, no less.
Frustrated yet, I’m realistic,
The muse of light is the idealistic.

23.12.2015.