Ronald Ragan

The Muse

I walked out onto the back porch and saw her standing on the pier.
The warm ocean breeze blew her sundress of sheer.

Her crimson blonde hair turned gold in the shining sun with persistence.
At her command the luminous celestial body bowed to her radiance.

The crashing waves pacify and restrained themselves for her muse.
A coastal wind carried clouds of springtime sounds, thoughts, and hues.

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