Muse

Where do you come from,
the markers of extraordinary vigour
Of yesterdays forlorn
and tomorrows unpast.
Arriving unannounced
on your toes like a whisper,
leaving kisses silent ,
moist behind my ear.

Or in a whoosh of a blowing wind from nowhere,
lifting me,
swirling and then a happy pirouette.
Or smelling
of dried purple petals,
hidden in between
forgotten passages,
of musty memories and rust filled loneliness,
Or pent up frustrations
spinning upward
like froth in an ocean.

In a rush of anger
sometimes,
you’ll hit me hard,
the world wobbling in imbalance,
like breathing was remembering,
you come and go and when you wish,
leaving me lying wasted,
on words strewn,
shells from crevices inside
I never knew existed.