Lost: My Muse

I’ve lost my muse.

I crept away as she slumbered.

And, when I came with blooms for my June,

only her sensuous citrus scent remained.

If you see her auburn tresses

or sense wafts of orange zest

in your daily journey,

please share with her I long for her

and can only create verbose vacuums

expressing my heart’s new vacancy.

If she declares her freedom from my adoration

and wishes no return,

smile silently at her and repeat her disdain message

gently to me and teach me how to write

another blue ballad.

Empty, I await her or you, my dreaded love messenger.

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