Troubadour à Muse

On days dark, in the dumps, much the blues,
with a butterfly touch, laughter rare,
Cupid's bow, Zephyr's blow, would declare
Cinderella should don dancing shoes.

Enchantment spells well to enthuse
rejoicing that naught could impair,
jubilation, creation, forms stair
to heaven through rainbow as woos

heart to heart once apart, each takes cues
up, around, to rebound, well may dare
answer call of the wild, child repair
to prepare transformation's true hues.

Should you play kind Troubadour’s muse,
away with toils, trouble and care -
discovering answers to prayer
with wantonness neither refuse.

When you kiss bliss takes wing, life renews
welfare's tune springing wellspring, brings where
bright eyes dream through lagoon blue moon, there
stars sparkle, shine, intertwine views. 

No blame could exist, no accuse
‘WE’ creation could catalyze, air
to stimulate stanzas, - nor scare,
nor fear, dear, no asking ‘what’s whose ? ’

Thus your mirror, fair Troubadour’s muse,
Time lines leaves behind, neither ware
of the need to seed feelings, feed, share
beyond commonplace keyed to amuse.

If O.K. bright ray, Troubadour's muse,
each phrase might rhyme praise everywhere,
spirit brave, blithe, reve[a]led as each layer
protective peels, unseals joy's fuse.

As Troubadour's muse you should choose
priceless patterns, soft textures, compare
clear vision in tender affair
to humdrum existence crowd rues,

there fusion would never confuse,
inspiration enough, and to spare,
intuitive insight aware
of the chance to advance, shed taboos.

Interplay between Troubadour, muse,
flamboyancy splices with flair,
both should sow, both would grow, as a pair,
flow as current electric to use

space as base to trace joy - not abuse -
we should tenderness share, greet, prepare 
ideal idyll fast past will repair...
would you play fair as Troubadour's muse ?