Accidental Muse

T'was the night before tomorrow

and all through my consciousness,

nothing stirred to write a poem about

not even time's lachrymoseness.

When of a sudden did I hear

a stomping from up above,

then came crashing into my room

a strange female grasping a dove.

The bird was quite disheveled,

and this woman was semi-transparent.

I composed myself and bowed.

She winked then said, "I'll have claret!"

I opened a bottle and poured a glass 

then handed it to this presence.

She slurped it down with gusto spilling

some on her gown's evanescence.

She said, "Aha, I'm here now

to inspire you, my good chap."

Then she backed into a lamp

and ricocheted into my lap.

"So what'll it be -- unrequited love

or sublimation of some grief?"

Then she snickered with a new idea:

"But why not comic relief?

Obsessing over just dark themes

will make you batty and wrinkled.

So let me whisper a silly thing

for you arabesquely sprinkled."

Then she stood up clumsily flourishing  

an adieu while twirling like magic.

She stepped on my Siamese cat's curling tail

and disappeared to howls of panic.

~ TB, 2013