How are you my poet, she asked me with a poetic smile
Blessed with poems, replied I, looking into her eyes
How you write poems, she asked, with the cosmic breath
How you write poems, she asked, with the cosmic breath
Through the beauty of the world, as I see, I muttered
What is your inspiration, she asked by winking her eyes
What is your inspiration, she asked by winking her eyes
You are my muse, I told it not, yet mumbled,
All the living and the past dead
All the living and the past dead
