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Posted on 06/01/2008 5:39:33 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
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Only time I saw blue skies if I go to mountains in Big Bear or Fairbanks AK LOL!
mine
BWAHAHAHAHA
ROFLMAO!
I write the verses, I sing the songs, and images come alive,
Such power to wield, it makes me feel there’s nothing I can’t contrive!
But, what is the source of this eldritch gift, which I’ve come to so expertly use?
The answer is simple, she’s right here beside me, my pretty fey harlequin muse!
She’s here at my side, perched on my shoulder, or fluttering close to my heart,
Whether here in my home or away in the wars, she and I are never apart,
Her moods are many - she’ll turn up like a penny, or off she might go for a week,
But then she’ll return, and I’ll feel her greeting with a butterfly kiss on my cheek.
She can change like the season, for no better reason than simply because she can,
In springtime, the green and the gold of the leprechaun, is what she might wear for a span,
In winter, the red, white and green of the Santa-gnomes shows off her dainty curves,
And in summer and fall, she might fancy the earth-tones of rolling hills and green turves.
She can fill my vision with sights and with sounds that I simply must share with the world,
With knights and fair maidens, the moon and the stars, or a clipper with sails unfurled,
She can torture and tempt me with sighs of delight and sensations of love and desire,
Or comfort my lonely and breaking heart, as I sit all alone by the fire.
My muse was beside me when I left this land, and sojourned in sand far away,
And poems and prose flowed forth from my keyboard, oh! How she would dance and play!
The boredom and fear all blended in words that seemed like mine at the time,
But they came from the perfume that fell from her wings as she flitted in rhythm and rhyme.
Well the months went on, and her dance became frantic, as trying to help me she might,
As each poem got harder, her wings beat quickly to fan away tears in the night.
But then, came the morning when reading the mail, my face and eye blanked with dread,
And all of the world fell silent when I got the news that Momma was dead.
I flew home in silence, I paid my respects, and I sat in my own private hell,
Not a word or a verse of a song could I make - I doubt if I even could spell,
I felt so alone, like the power had left me, that never again would I dance,
For loss and despair had taken my muse, for with death there’s no second chance.
I searched for her often, in all the old places, to bring back the source of the rhyme,
All my friends told me that they understood, that things would get better with time,
But weeks turned to months, and my lovely friend vanished without even the least of clues,
And I began to fear that I never would hear the whisper of my pretty fey muse.
The seasons changed in their dance once more, and autumn crept over the trees,
The real world beckoned, and once again I had the bill collectors to please,
But then something happened, for deep in the night, when to silence for solace I’d seek,
I was looking at moonlight, and suddenly felt… a butterfly kiss on my cheek!
Tears began pouring like rain from my eyes, as I scooped up the sprite with my hand,
For the first time in months, I could smell and could feel the perfume that her wings fanned!
And I looked her over to see what had happened, while I told her how I’d missed her so,
And I saw that like me, she had changed and been altered, in a place that I could not go.
Her eyes looked older, her frame was thinner, but her smile was wide and so bright,
And her clothes were covered with black and white diamonds, top to bottom, left to right,
Jaunty feathers sprang up from her mask, and her hair was now raven with streaks of grey,
But the love in her eyes as she laughed let me know that she had returned, to stay.
The black and the white of the harlequin’s costume is what she will wear for a time,
For the harlequin’s silence, and the black for the mourning, explains the lack of the rhyme,
But she’ll also wear this to be the hit of the party, or the parade for the Carnivale,
To remind that the good times will roll once again, a good time will be had by all.
So reader, enjoy your visit, wherever my verses and songs might appear,
And don’t be surprised if, by some chance, as you’re reading you might come to hear
The flitter of wings, or the tinkle of laughter - think of any excuse you can use,
But I am so happy, for it means the return of my pretty fey harlequin muse!
Gotta take a short break thunderstorms rolling through. BBL.
Neat musical story Tom!
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