Late night conversations with the muse

In this velvet dark, the stars are somewhere behind
the moodiness of the clouds,
and muse is a lover,
a light upon a grassy hill that makes my fingertips blush,
the things I write are not dry
rather like the tone of a painting they push against each other
and flow like water,
there is something about late night that appeals
to the senses,
how do I surrender to sleep
when words in the wisp of silence fall through the air
like confetti,
let not this conversation end
stimulating as long black,
as lips that bind the soul and eventually lead to
a better tomorrow.


Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads

also for Midweek Motif @ Poets United