Fleeting Muse Poem by Carolyn Brunelle
Fleeting Muse
My poor muse remains
helpless against the wall
of preoccupied mind.
And only a soft flutter of wing
lingers in the haze of my slumber;
leaving me with little more than
a fleeting glimpse of the stars.
Pity this prisoner
who so dearly wants to fly.
Friday, September 7, 2012
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5/26/2024 7:29:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
So real, never enough time to let the muse fly free