The Muse

While the muse cavorts with others, our eyes sometimes meet. She will give me a polite, rather dry smile, and then turn back to her banter with the prettier talent. But I know a flirt when I see one. She knows she can’t fool me.

Because I know that only the extraordinary, the exceptional, the sublime fascinate her. The rest are mere diversion. And while her coquettish ways rouse in me a desire for her affections, I rather settle for that bare look, whence these modest works spring.

Welcome to Shipwreck Poems.


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