Beyond the Page

A life cycle of creativity.

When words cannot express my best

And tears only douse pages of my mind

The literal garden is where my dreams rest

Where emotions are shaped then refined

 

My muse, amused can take the stage

Just beyond the edge of the page

 

When worlds of black and white refract

And vibrant colors imbue each phrase

The black written ink becomes abstract

Where feelings once chilled are set ablaze

 

My muse, enthused can come of age

Far beyond the edge of the page

 

When all that is unwritten is washed away

And memories are soiled like wasted words

The wrinkles of time have frayed the day

Where passion has fled like migrating birds

 

My muse, excused from my old age

Solemnly wanders the edge of the page

 

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

You have floored me! Wonderful write:)