Silent Muse
B
Barry Middleton
0
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the muse is nearly silent
she whispers in the dark of night
I cannot hear her voice
the silence beckons of my plight
now I must heed its call
for as the seasons pass away
so poetry is lost
in coldest winds of yesterday
it has been said before
that gold must vanish from the earth
the old must move aside
for spring and seasons of rebirth
then poetry is new
in stranger words without a rhyme
as I now shed a tear
beyond the limits of my time
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