Saturday, 11 May 2019

Late Night, Last Night

by deb y felio

Last night from slumber I awoke
the muse had landed on my bed
I floundered for pen and paper near
to record all she said

beautiful words, poetic form
inspired with angelic voice
in the dark I scribbled fast
trusting memory - not a choice

page upon page until no more
I laid down my soon dried pen
exhausted from creative work
I slept to dream again

In the cool of morning light
the pages lay in wait
I picked them up, began to read
what came to me so late

the beauty of the muse’s gift
the melody once sung
was given to me and I wrote
apparently in tongues

for what I saw in light of day
instead of inspiration
was some foreign alphabet
in need of interpretation.

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