The Muse

The Muse

By the bend of the river she sang,

And what I heard reminded me of a choir,

She and the river as if of the selfsame song,

Sometimes her words were clear, at others bent,

To the roar of the river at the indent,

Much like the filled in colours of memory’s imprint,

And then by the mountain she was seen,

In the glen at the foothill,

 amidst the yellow flowers strewn on the green therein,

her eyes bent, her lips moved to that self same song

singing to the muse within,

oblivious, serene, she sat almost unseen,

 I see her often by the sea shore,

Nestled in the boats come ashore,

She sits quiet, transfixed as if by the play of light and dark,

The waters lit, often gold or shimmering with sliver,

As the ebb and flow of life tip toes by

It is her song the waves sing…

Her words now resonate with my musings within,

She and I, as if of the selfsame song, we sing…

~Vinny

August 1, 2013