In Search of Her Muse

she wanders alone through an empty house
organized and tidy
shiny and clean
scheduled and well-prepared
for tomorrow

the quiet engulfs her senses like a tomb
she wants to shriek
but the boredom stifles her cry
as she waits for a message that will not come
a song that will not play
a voice that no longer whispers the poetry

Return to her, Muse!
bring flowers, but not roses
bring strawberries and wine
speak words of encouragement
in some foreign language
break through her silence
and cause her to sing
coax her to action
before she withdraws
and dance on her lips as she kisses your soul.