“ the sheets come dawn “

She knows me all to well and all to often I will be buried in
books and paintings and she find or invent some new
distraction to pull me to her and outdoors amidst the
real world.
And I will write of her or paint of her as yes she is the muse
of which I was blessed to have been given. Although I have
long believed it was her who chose me having seen some
redeeming quality she could influence.
On this day she has dressed herself in what I will call a
shade sea foam with matching hat and has picked flowers
from our garden and has strolled about. Knowing that as
the sunlight kissed her form when she stepped from the
shadows across from my window I would notice a change
of light and she would capture my attention as she always
does, and always has.
And as rise and walk around the patio, I will upon a table
a freshly brewed pot of tea my favorite of raspberry no doubt
and I will inhale all of the scents of the garden as she approaches.
And before she lifts her head I will see her smile and then
her eyes and I will fall madly in love all over again. And I will
breathe in her scent for she has won the day and I will be
her prisoner for the remainder of the day into the evening
and on into the twisting of sheets come dawn.