The Muse

I lay my head upon the pillow,
I close my eyes
And let the winged Muse slip in and out
Of the world behind my eyes.

Awaken to a blur of colors
And of words.
To a rhythm that is new
To you and me.

Hurry-- for the pen and the paper
As it slips through your fingers,
Like silk,
Like wind,
As if you never really held it.
Feel it retreat,
Back to the world behind your eyelids--
And the door shuts tight behind it.

Dashes courtesy of Emily Dickinson.