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Poemission
A Muse Amused
BACK
Her free hand reaches for Me,
grasping at the venerable essence
she feels I hold in brimming reserve,
but it is her gentle stroking
which milks cream from My neglected dust.

Her head rests against My knee,
craving the nourishment she perceives
bubbling within My loins,
but it is her ardent hunger
which returns substance to My bare bones.

Her heart races in sticky solitude
as she dreams in grandeur
of My stirring presence within her,
but truly it is her mounted desire
which pumps fresh, firm life into Me.

Her eyes sparkle in an open swoon
with the light streaked in shadow
that she gathers from My words,
but I know it is her dedicated fire
which illuminates My dark pages.

Amazed I am still,
how she can envision herself a humble flower
basking in the warmth of My rays.
Little does she know,
were it not for the bloom of her waiting petals,
some days this sun would not bother to rise.