the muse:

candlelight splays across the hall
the midnight oil is burning
from the stillness of the shadows
the muse’s mind is churning.
in his warm bed
the poet lies still, sleeping
while out in the hall
the muse begins its creeping.
down the stairs, to the desk
the muse’s pen takes to writing
scratching at the parchment
beneath the candle’s lighting.
of moon beams and stardust
the muse basks in the glowing,
across the pages, through the night
the words are endless flowing.
quietly the muse sits and works
until it begins yawning
and then as quickly as it came
the muse is gone with daylight dawning.