A Muse, gone? Or away, again Alone, along with her songs.
Sad, yet hopeful tunes Passions withered, lost Darkened, clouded moon.
Heart lost within Weary, wrought, all too still Passions buried, strength of will.
A Muse, all that she Has been and seen and known Away, alone.
I am the Muse Away, again, alone with her silenced songs Waiting...
Waiting to warble (if even one note) Waiting for her to hear and know
That we may sing again...
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*Note: Missing all of you, here...strange times and sending my Thanks and Love to you, trying to write, thus, the above, a work in progress, but I thank You, here for making that happen...as you did, indeed, make something happen...
Robert Burns' first daughter was Elizabeth. Her story and the five descendants Scottish lives are recorded here with the Bard's message today as ever in need. Al Quida listen: Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that. That Sense
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though silenced also
hears the ricochet
of your warbling echo
bounce off the moon
thanks for sharing
Happy Holidays
Peg