Ron Kinard © 2003

here I am, sitting
tempting fate
writing silly poetry
there’s no debate

teasing the muse
a tickle or two
like I’ve got better
things to do

ornery and hateful
sometimes, just gone
out late, partying
dusk until dawn

this muse of mine
she’s fickle, but sweet
hanging out late, even
roaming the street

when she checks in
about a quarter to nine
strutting her stuff
still looking so fine

she looks at me cross eyed
sticks out her tongue
making me laugh
I feel so young

bringing back feelings
opening my heart
I’ve loved this muse
from the very start

encouraging me to write
stimulating my mind
unfortunately this muse
was all I could find

anyway, I’ll go and
leave you with this
this muse of mine
really does exist

from the heart, I write
with the words, I play
my muse will be back
on some other day