by Jacqui Pratlett

Created on: April 01, 2010   Last Updated: April 09, 2010

I stare at the solitary silhouette in the window across the street,

Burnt black by the bright flare from behind.

And my pen does not move.

I stare at the leaves trickling from the trees,

Its trunk twisted like that bendy straw in your summer drink.

And my pen does not move

I stare at the moon, moored in space bobbing

Behind wisps of grey-blue cloud.

And my pen does not move.

I stare into deep cocoa eyes, that bounce back love.

An intense sensation of glee, gratitude, gushing fondness.

I drop my pen to the floor, falling into the comfort of

My Muse.

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