Spices blossom about my tongue Crimson falls and lights her hair Moonlight dance and distant trolley My muse and I exchange a glance, a secret or two I swallow her words, to marinade and digest And pray that under the stars, when she has gone, They will return and new works spawn
Good one. I hope mine returns at some point.
I hope the same for you. It is within you and making room for it (he/she/they) will manifest greatness.