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
Topic(s) of this poem: leaving
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7/29/2026 1:06:12 PM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
So real, never enough time to let the muse fly free