The Study

Amidst the chaotic scenery
I had lost my muse
How horrible
For a poet to have no words to share
Indeed I felt lost
So during the nights I dreamed
Peculiar things I saw in my dreams
But none worthy to be spoken as poetry
Just dreams

But then I began to hear a voice
A voice of a woman mumbling
Mumbling things to herself
Practicing a conversation by herself
Day by day I would hear her voice through the walls
Talking to herself

I would make out some words now and then
Especially when I was working at my desk
She would keep talking to herself
And I would keep trying to find my muse

I saw this woman one day
The one whom I would hear through the walls
She was finely dressed
I began to pass by her every day
And as always she was finely dressed
Always going somewhere
With an anxious look on her face

I would keep hearing her voice through the walls
But it was different now
She was not talking to herself
She was just talking

Again and Again I would pass by her on my way out
And she was always finely dressed

Perhaps she had a lover
Maybe that was why
The reason she would practice conversing
The reason she was finely dressed

Again and Again I would hear her voice through the walls
But why did I hear her voice through the walls?

Then one day it stopped
I could no longer hear her voice through the walls
I didn’t see her as I made my way out

And one day as I was making my way out
I stopped by her door
And heard a soft breathing
She was behind the door

I walked away
And finished the day

And that night as I sat at my desk
I could write once more
For my muse had found me

Yet she was trapped behind that door
Perhaps she had a lover no more
Or maybe she could speak no more
Could it be that my muse had found its place
And would leave me no more?