Modest Muse (a poem)

Oh, sorrow indeed,
to be chided for praising beauty
where one finds it:
no celebrating a sun slipped out on dark days;
no noting a shy girl’s sweet smile;
no citing the elegance of the slender swan’s neck
nor the peacock’s plume.

To be left with unmade music
And silent songs
for a modest muse:
oh, sorrow indeed.

30 March, 2012