Image Credit: Pexels- RedWolf
There she sits
A beauty to behold,
To her, the world is her canvas
Her paintbrush strokes every heart
Her easel she sets on the mountain
Her muse is at the ready
Inspiration never looked so good
Her own venom is love
A love I cannot hide.
In her head
These words are gold,
Golden nuggets to a great muse
Her sympathy I’ve felt over and over again
My heart is but a scar
A scar not worthy of her time
But in her beauty, she inspired me
To be seen as worth inspiration
I’m beyond honored.
To the greats before me
I await my induction,
To the halls of wisdom
To the halls of love
With every stroke
With every metaphor
I intend to inspire
From a vision, I wish to fly
Yes, I wish to fly.
There she sits
My heart is her piano,
The symphonies she brought
I still wonder aloud
A heart like hers, perfection
A love like hers, amazing
A place like this, heaven.
Be it a few words
Or pages filled with thoughts,
Listen to what she brings
Her name is greater than the Muses
Her smile is muse enough for me
In this, I’ll forever stay
A poem without beauty is just a void
A void worse than death
This was written by our contributing writer, Adiela Michael.
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