The rains of May have gone away and now there’s no you.
How can I think about writing without my muse?
Your chocolatey velvet skin, a smile powered by the sun.
Muscles dripping with sweat had my poetry stanzas on the run.
The buttery tone of your voice made me want to write short succinct haikus.
But, the depth and power of your grace, had me thinking of “I do’s.”
Then, the thoughts of getting horizontal left me writing acrostic.
And, if there was a line, I’d have already crossed it.
