Poem: New Muse

It’s like running along a tightrope,
Like having a threesome with despair and with hope.

It’s like crossing a busy intersection,
Ignoring the lights, lost in introspection.

It’s like an eternally burning short fuse,
Being a poet terrified of his muse.

It’s like a blessing, it’s like a curse,
It’s both the best thing and the worst.

It’s like true love, it’s like a crush;
The finest literature and sentimental mush:

Thank you for giving me such scope.

4 December 2007