*** MISS MUSE AND ME ***
For many morns in many moons,
I lay still, like steam in winter,
Dreams wring out of my eyes,
"Miss Muse, come to bed with me".
I toss, turn and grope with hope,
I grasp shadows and touch scents,
She whispers in distant darkness,
Voice sleep-walking on silent winds,
Miss Muse breathes under covers,
Our lips burn in the fire of words,
We moan verses in orgasmic bliss,
And stain the sheets with poetic ink.
Written By Kunle Omope.
Photo from google.com
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