Stomping in frustration,
through a field one day,
I noticed a shining little treasure,
that was thankfully
placed in my way.
My sole was then,
covered thick with mud,
as memories of her,
came rushing up,
like rising waters of a flood.
Looking for a place
to wipe my shoes,
it was then I heard,
the loving voice of my muse.
Soft spoken and quite gentle,
yet forcefully instrumental,
our fated connection in the field
had seemed coincidental.
Her qualities transcendental,
her inspiration fundamental,
affects me...