She wasn’t wrong about
what she would always say,
“Sometimes tomorrow brings
nothing but yesterdays.”
I wonder if at night
visits from Orpheus
open her mind in ways
pleasant or torturous?
She learned to play the game
and play a lyre right,
soon that’s what she became
lost in a fire bright.
Cadmus would hold the door,
but she would read for long
so long his arms got sore
even though they looked strong.
Poems and songs await
those with a patient mind
while they get lost upon
those who can’t find the time.
Keep me within your dreams
if that’s a safe request,
my nightmares, let them scream
as I begin to rest.
Over the mountain bend
cliffsides with ocean views,
I’m yet to learn her name
my nameless mountain muse.
She says one thousand words
with every face she makes,
one day I’ll learn her name
despite how long it takes.
She wasn’t right about
what she so often thought,
“If life is sure to end
maybe it’s all for naught.”
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