December 6, 2009

• AMuse

  She fiddles

  Whimsical
    Flimsical
       Magickally
  Marvelous

  Her expressions are changing
    Like summer sun through windstruck leaves
  Upon my naked skin

  I spy a grin,
  And warmth bursts in my breast
  Gives forth laughter

  And she laughs in turn,
  (But not before a wicked little wink)
  My conspirator is amused.

  My conspirator is my muse...

  12/6/09

  • 3:33 pm
  • 2 Comments