Muse: A Short Poem

By: Dechen Tamang

​Her fingers
Drip paint
Pink and silver and gold
Over the piano keys
Drawing melancholic notes
I wonder-
Does she ever
Swaddle me
In the cotton hold
Of her pieces
Does she ever
Dress me up
In acrylic or charcoal or granite
Does she ever
Think of me
While poetry falls from her lips
While honey glows
Golden over her skin
While red wine glistens
Tinting her lips
Her fingers race
Across the black and white keys
Swathes and splashes
Of pink and silver and gold
Cover her fingers
Velvet creativity
And delicate imagination
Envelopes her,
Encloses her away from me
And I’m left wondering again
Will I ever be enough
Of the stars or the galaxy
Of crushed petals or late night poetic art
Will I ever be enough
Of a muse
For her to notice me?