Musing Madonna~

The muse likes to play- in the midst of a darkened night- yet, will her essence leave us in the hour? When morning visits, will she be a ghost? * Dedicated to Ioana Fracassi, who inspired the piece.

~ ~ * Musing Madonna ~ * ~ ~ *


A candle lit the shadowed lace,
Trailing from your black corsage,
The breeze upon the sleeves
encouraged-
Dance in your reflective cadence.

It was then came the thought that,
Before tea supplied the hour,
The light had yet to notice,
Madonna's faithful presence.

Such an unnoticed companion!
Like jam that's spread on buttered toast,
Or pulp within my orange juice,
Calling me forth your essence-
These revelations I ingested.

That night, the flame distanced,
And daylight struck the panes again,
From the visit which engaged these,
Heavy reflections I indulged in,
And all I'd seemed to leave as ghosts,
Now followed me with their dark whispers-
recriminating my soul.

And smooth my lips had felt your hands,
Pressed into a saintly kiss,
As the end your thoughts a farewell bid,
My black fantasies to the wind,
Inciting my need to wonder why-
The daylight left me . . . in such a sad remiss!

Author's Note

An I-Phone originated piece . . . sometimes a nightly urge strikes me. I will visit again with the intent to fine edit.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

You had me hooked with your opening line. 'A candle lit the shadowed lace', set the mood for the entire piece. Love the dark and light of this in the shadows of your acceptance. Sometimes visiting the darkly recesses of our mind is a good thing, when we wake, it's a stark reality that we indeed do live there also. Going in my favorites!

[Foxemerald]

Many thanks for your introspective review. I am glad that you appreciate the message and tone of this; it is rather whimsical, perhaps, but I see the muse as a Madonna which can inspire . . . inasmuch as it leaves one feeling desolate. Many times when we awake, only left with an impression of the night, something feels amiss- perhaps it is just me, but to me the day is more surreal, in every manner, than the night. Night is where some of us only visit our 'other self,' and where truth accompanies us- maybe, if we would just allow it to sit awhile, 'as we have tea,' then we would be much more in tune with ourselves . . . but it is just a thought :)