My Second Muse (A prose poem) Day 6. NaPoWriMo
When the second Muse came, She filled the house with laughter, promises and a faint scent of jasmine mixed with lemon grass. At first, ‘this is too much’ I thought, just returned from the South Seas, waiting to meet her in the foyer. But she refused to show her face, racing barefoot down the hall in gossamer thread and giggles.
More shy than the first, happier, more impish, this Muse rose early, pulling curtains to wake us, tossing things carelessly and humming in a voice so faint you had to strain to hear… “fireflies and little lies are all I want for breakfast!”. My laughter would bring her closer. She was Silly but Industrious, working late into the night on sweet tea and blackberries… wearing velvet hats, pearls, and exotic ribbons. Soon she sang constantly. I borrowed her keys for silk thread transitions, while she danced tempos and allegrettos con brio.
A dark swallow, she hovered and dove while I worked- throwing things if she heard notes misplaced, giggling in G when vibrato behaved- but all wordless. Until the day I placed certain lyrics within the cove of one of her melodies- the one with the flying tempos and swan dive horns. I was thinking of one South Easterly with a certain laugh pattern as I scratched lyrics in indigo-
“Don’t dare waste my melody on that one.” Her voice was sweet. Firm. Low. “These notes are ONLY for the Ones You Have Yet to Meet.”
Her ONLY made me resist. She stamped her feet. I explained. She shouted. I defended. She pouted. Woods beneath us swelled and retreated. Drama came for Days to the little green house, rain pouring all around us. Thundering mad, we ate in silence, skirting all shadows and obvious artifacts. We finished several songs, between storms, but this one had us loggerhead red for four nights.
Until the morning- she stood crying at the side of my bed, “Stupid girl! To waste such Beauty on fumeroles!- fat and spouting toxic! When will you learn! I’m leaving” she declared. I paniced. “No. We’re not finished. You give me no robato! Please- Just give one clue about the One I Should Be Writing For- I can’t see through this passion play!” She sat up straight through crystal tears. “’Bout time you asked.”
“They will be 5 in 1. And playing my ghost notes- the ones I made you write with invisible ink on papyrus sash. And they will be smiling. For you. My smile. Because you will finally sing my secrets lighter than air.