A Muse's Remorse

"Sing to me o muse" they say.

Worked to the bone I have no rest.

So proud of the stories I weave,

but no credit do I take.

A faceless someone, that's all I am.

Hints I send, picture me- I say.

Mysterious air about me.

Inspiration is what I do.

Picture me as you do sleets of rain.

As you do rolling thunder,

as you do rains of fire.

As you do…

"Sing to me o muse" they say.

I'll lead you there.

There, to that place of dreams,

It is my home, you are my guest.

Look- my hearth.

See your childhood?

See what you used to be, what you are now?

Those sparks you see,

They are yours to keep.

Make your fires, make your dreams.

"Sing to me o muse" they say,

I sing.