The Muse...


...Never leaves.

She may become enchanted by a blade of grass shimmering in the aftermath of the morning dew

but
She Never leaves.

She may spin herself a glistening web of wonder while strumming a song of melancholy hope upon its silent strands 

but
She Never Leaves

She may decline conversation 

She may be misty eyed and impenetrable 

She may turn towards the remembrance of yesteryears discourse

But.
She Never Leaves.