She sleeps inside a waiting verse
who knows what she can see
for seconds her eyes open
that’s when she talks to me.
" Do you see inside that picture
a rose, a leaf, a tree
it's waiting for that moment
when you can set it free ".
Passion comes in many forms
I sense it in my muse
there's not one special thing
inside me, free to use.
A tear, a cry, a silence
a word inside a song
you can't define a reason
forgive me if I'm wrong.
Author notes
There is no single special thing that moves us to write. It's a million tiny stories waiting to grab your attention.
Maybe not gonna help you much, but who knows where the next poem is coming from.
My muse is what makes me write, if she sleeps it's only because she needs the rest 
A contest entry
- Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone... by ShatterglassSecret.
1700 points, ended December 13, 2008, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Wonderful, my best wishes.
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interesting. i liked the light, whimsical, quizzical tone of this poem, particularly as you have interpreted the prompt of my contest in your own original way. i know what you mean about drawing inspiration from different things that catch your attention, and your suggestion that a muse sleeps because she needs rest, not because she abandons her writer, is comforting. thank you for your entry.
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Oh I think you are so right with this! There are so many things that will spark 'her' and 'she' can hit you like a bolt from nowhere. Excellent piece.
All the best with it
Gaylene
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