My Muse Poem by Jojoba Mansell

Her soul, my wellspring,
quenching heart's thirst.
Her hair, my burning sun.
Those eyes, my stars.
That smile my warmth,
my falling has begun.

Her moods, as seasons,
dictate my days.
Be she full of spite and fire,
or content and overjoyed.
Her wit, so quick and rapier sharp,
thus by her mirth is spirit buoyed.

Her beauty is exceptional,
for her my heart could burst.
The way she moves unparalleled,
a rolling stream unbridled; a swallow on the wing
I see her, love her, want her so,
my heart can't help but sing.