When she is in the house
everything else comes to a stop
and full attention is paid to her
A demanding guest, she gives no
time for food, or laundry.
Her needs are always stronger—her voice
so sweet I must sing along.
At first the pace is exhilarating.
I feel relieved that she has returned.
But as the days go by, I tire.
Things pile up—I have no sox.
Unable to hold my eyes open after dinner
My book falls crashing to the floor.
I am getting through the days on coffee—
caught up in a drug-like sleep at night.
But I am creating work I love.
Paintings pour off my fingertips
in a fit of production that would
make Henry Ford’s eyes bulge.
I must pay court while I have her
for she will leave me suddenly
and I don’t know when she’ll return.
Yes, when the Muse visits, I give her all I’ve got.
cwarmsun – January 2012