Sophia White Poems

When she walks outside into the golden light
Her bare feet tickled by the daffodils
Her blue eyes open wide and shine so bright.
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All the wishfuls desperately cry:
“Muse! Muse! O Muse! ”
But where is the muse
To enthuse
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There is this feeling –
Not an emotion, not a tangible sensation,
But a deep and unspeakable sense
That I cannot explain in words or in art.
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She has piles and piles of papers to write.
She has miles and miles of sources to cite.

She has many and many a book to read.
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I long, with blood and bone, to carve my name
Deep into the tree of glowing thought;
To set my words in wood eternal grown
So deep that time cannot wear them away.
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What if I died and you were not here
If you were far, far away
And I died while you were gone.
Would you hear of it soon?
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This is a pleasant evening,
Jazzy, in a way that makes you dance.
If it were a color, I’d call it transparent blue,
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Ah, the soft guitars that play
and lull the twilight.
I, unseen and all alone
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I want a wind
To start in the far-off mountain
To rush down in a raging fury
And fill this dull and silent valley.
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Wrapped up in my dreams, nothing can go wrong
Night is moonlit and the days are long
Thoughts are reality, my world is my own song,
And butterflies don’t get trapped in spiderwebs.
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