not without the love of this muse

not without the love of this muse

i have a date tonight under the snow light 

with a poem i locked eyes with

in my sleep

she is late and i hope she has not stood me up

because she looked like no other

here she comes 

in rhyme on time

i will make her mine

if she will have me 

with all my imperfections 

see how the light in swirling snow throws 

her shadow on this page of snow

i will trace around her 

with this twig of a pen 

and she can throw snowballs at

every cliché i trip over and

she will laugh and laugh at me

and with me as i stand up on the ice

and learn to skate around the grit words

and the thorns beneath the snow

and she will kiss my bare footfall blue

and massage the frostbite from my toes

and hand in hand we will skip through my poem

and play with the damsel flies above the water meadows

of the long and golden summers she saw

form the beginning in my eyes 

and i see now her teases were love’s dew

on the young shoots of an eternity

that was promised in my halting words

that are now sleeping under our tree

as the shy sun slowly sets

embarrassed at our union

in front of the whole world 

who will read these words 

where are we now

i ask you