I’ve been working on another moment in my short story, She Waits With Music. This poem came to me last night.
My Muse
Ask with eyes casted down, will you give?
Reveal my slow hands, do you receive?
Feel every heart beat, can you handle it?
Fall as any woman would, do you accept?
Lost in your eyes, as blue as the sky.
A classic story; I’ll be yours, you’ll be mine.
Minds crescendoing; another night’s dream.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 
Yes!
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Beautiful poem, so happy to be following!
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Thanks! I’ve enjoyed yours as well.
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The professor likes it. Especially: Feel every heart beat, can you handle it?
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Thanks. That was mine too, I think it was polite of Ambrosia to ask him. The rest, garbage.
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It is not, dadblameit, dadblameit, dadblameit!
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Duke! The professor has an opinion, I guess.
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I’m allowed to swear when I get riled up. Granddadblameit.
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I blame DS and your long chat on the lawn…he’s rubbing off on you.
Yet still. IDK, poetry is hard.
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Very hard and you do quite well at it.
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Do it or leave it inside, I guess.
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