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Natalie Swindle


Poetic inspiration, listen close to me, whether this is what you are or my fabricated fantasy,
You remain an enigma, a stirrer of my soul, thunder for my heart
A distant friend, a muse I cannot choose
To ignore, no matter the consequence here I sit, pondering what you are and why
To me you seem to be so full of piquant mystery!

Serious, sweet, intense, smarter than the teacher,
A twig of death dangles from his serious, sweet smile……
What do his eyes see? Do they see me?
Every moment is a sublime experience while he sits and studies,
His breathing is a rhythm that matches mine, a brain that ticks in tune with time…..
Drama beneath his calm cool surface is it turmoil or only regurgitated literary anguish?
Is it pain that make his eyes so deep, his stare so poignant?

Fair David of the stage! Are you the bard’s player, or do you merely play?
Your genre has much depth and is full of art, art thou? Are you YOU in the dark?
Take me with you when you read, let me cipher thoughts from the wrinkles of your mind. I want to drink your interpretation, your inspiration into mine.

Perhaps the day will fade away and with it only your memory will stay,
Yet still I’ll sit and ponder of all things you sit and wonder.