The Muse Poem by shweta khosla

Music is nothing else,
but words sung to a note.
Words that spin stories,
stories I wish I wrote.

About reality.
About you and me.

A smile, a touch,
is all we have now.
I dream of a lot more,
somewhere, somehow.

Will reality be be bent?
From dreams dreamt?

All I want is you,
Because from here it begins.
The words, the stories,
The desire for sins.

My friend, then what is your role?
But the muse that feeds my soul.