Corner office, where Muse resides
(To best of my understanding)
Perhaps he lives in old lighthouse
Or sandcastles, maybe he operates
Kaleidoscope, then slips among green
Mute-leafed plants, swims ‘tween seashells
Lights votive candles…does he hold bulging
Gunnysack of petite Dream Maker?
For certain, he breathes!
Warm spirit directs windchimes’ waltz
First, soft suggestion, then quickening
Rush of color-strung Capiz-shell notes…
Transported to intangible world, pen
Speeds with hummingbird wings to catch
Whooshing words, heartbeats’ substance…
Adorned, as by plumeria lei, this glimpsed
Glory e’er nearer Heaven’s front porch ~
Why would I leave the office?