I haven't been writing much lately, by lately I mean 6 months. Guess my muse ran out of gas and I cannot find the station to refuel. But nevertheless, here is one of my older poems and the latest I wrote 6 months ago. Sonnet to the Silent Muse 'Tis a night full of tune and starlight gold, I would in pen trill, yet my heart tells nay. My sweet muse, alas, she is not too bold, and flees from my heart in these lapsing days. Though she but an angel my dreams have mold, she is too chary to reveal her grace. In the mien of elegance she enfolds, the whispers, her only evident trace. In the ashes of grief - I find her not, she shadows man and his unworthy eye. Yet she imparts tales of our puerile plot, the resplendent portrait of she and I! Come, fair Erato! Let thee to I show, my blindness to what thou hast long disclosed.
