Written in iambic pentameter.
Oh thund'rous muse where have you gone this day?
You swept right through this vacant house of mine,
Inclined to leave no light on thoughts to say.
Your coat of dust is felt on my decline.
This search for something else to grasp onto
Declares my soul too bare for all to see.
A storm should gather in the clouds I drew!
Pour suff’ring ‘pon my home vindictively!
Hope comes to me inside these dreams of you!
How then am I to fill my page with blooms
of passion’s own demanding needs? I'm blue…
Forlorn, my breast is emptied out of swoons.
A gentled rain begins to fall in tune
with heart’s own beat; my muse has been exhumed.
Copyright 2011 Kimberly Hillard