I miss her words
The song is faded
No longer heard
A little jaded
I miss her words
But not for one moment
Do I suspect
That the Muse is gone
She shines bright in her golden
Land of poetry and prose
And between us lie
Time, distance, and disparate roads
If only we could share
For a few moments
Here for a while
Or a little time there
It would ease the pain
Of the silence . . .
You weave still, fair Arachne
Grander than Orpheus or the artful
Daughters of Jove
But the tides of life
Tear me from your song
So that I cannot listen,
The quiet lasts
Far too long.
I miss you, Muse,
And hope that you miss
This lesser singer too
And I pray that your days pass well
And that soon,
The sooner, the better,
I will get to hear
Your song.
