She sits in the light
Of a solitary lamp,
Her fingers flying
Over the keyboard
As she races to capture
The images parading
Through her mind
With picture words
And syntax.
When the rest of the world sleeps
She comes to life,
Battling bleary eyes
And yawns
And the cat
Who would hog the screen
To capture the poetry
And prose
That her soul creates;
But it is a frantic task
For the inspiration comes,
And it goes,
On the wisp of a moment,
Barely registering
Before it is gone...forever.
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
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Sometimes what we have in our minds just won't go on the paper. You have captured this so well. I love the way George describes it.
Mary
Georg
Regis