Our muse's come at different times and in different forms during our lives.
I found something, well it's more like someone the other day while out shopping.
I wasn't looking for her, not by a long shot
but she was just there waiting to be taken home.
I really couldn't believe I was picking her up.
But there I was with her in my hands asking
She must have been quite a beauty at one time.
Now she looks a little worse for wear.
I think she is just beautiful in a tragic way.
There is something in her face, how she tries to hold her
dress up as it slips from her torso, and her wind swept hair.
She is flush, maybe from embarrassment she isn't what she use to be.
Her lips are still perfect and she wears her bling with pride.
You can see in her old, tattered crepe dress what glory it once was.
I think she is just perfect.
She sits on my dining room table right now, and everytime I walk by
she makes me smile and I have these wonderful creative
thoughts that I swear come from her.
I would have liked to have known her in her glory days
but I think it wouldn't be the same.
Our muse's come to us when they see fit, not when we do.