The Muse in Mystic

20140903-143450-52490993.jpgThe Muse and Her Poet, photo of Paige Osbourne and Willow Zef

I find the muse in Mystic
She tells me she is glad that I am following my heart
I hear in her words a slight sadness
The mystic sailor landlocked by this town the tourists call home
But bubbling up inside her
Is the joy to host some traveling visitors
To show them the willow tree in the graveyard
The one she has camped under
And climbed to the top of
A true rustic lady of the earth
Sublime in the way her smile ignites my inner fire
I feel humble to lay back
Twenty feet up
In the willow branches
My arm around her
With her head against my chest
Feeling her warm breath against my heart beat.

I realize from the tone of her voice
This powerful spell cast between us
That I first noticed
But she first spoke out loud
Works both ways
And right now,
My travels are opening her inner eyes
Much like her usual merry spirit has done to me in the past.

A muse to the muse
A subtle romance
A friend in life to share the road with
And to journey apart from
Meeting only to reflect upon
Life, love, and family
And the thousands of other pursuits in this memory

When we finally kiss
I hold my ground
Though my knees want to bend easy
And I think on how
I love a woman who makes me feel twelve years old again
Yet inspired like the mad men lost on top of mountains
If only to be here now
And remember
While holding her in my arms
What it was like
What it is like
To be in love
To be the muse’s lover.

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The Muse in Mystic

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