“HELP”, I call
Searching for her among the
Portraits from London.
Alas, there are no werewolves there.
My muse informs me
“It’s all about LOVE”
On the day I awaken
The moment I know
I love him too.
“Oh,” I reply
Will he save my love
safely stored on the shelf
Dust me off later
When I’m gray, wrinkled, and soft?
When I drop food on the floor
Or when I forget to lift
the seat on the commode?
As if…
Will he love me then?
“Yes,” the muse replies, even then.
…
My muse is patient and kind
Gently reminds me that I’m on the clock
She needs to rewind it
Before my love
Falls off the edge and into a black hole.
Which will require specific math to find itself.
And that is much too taxing
For the nostalgic and reflective.
Take a break, she says
Swiffer and dust off
We have a new adventure
And it will knock your cynic to the curb.
…
Dear sweet muse,
Stay close,
Calm my fear
Speak to me,
Bring me your barb
And your cheer,
I know nothing
About this risky business
Called love.
…
C.S. DeDona 2-12-23
Corney Press 