Meeting my muse

So long I've been in the dark-
waiting in a place dry and stark-
for a sign of sorts,
for a vision or inspiration I've long implored.

At long last I've met my muse
once again my words are spewed.
Like gushing falls my words do flow
erratically they dance to a melody I well know.

Beneath the arms of this willow
where I once did weep and speak of my sorrows,
a spark was ignited.

In this lonely place where I once did creep
into my memories buried deep,
my muse came so sweetly to sing his song.

Tenderly he murmured of silent joys
of hauntings to be deployed.

His eyes shone bright as twilight
unhindered by my barrier and guise.

Beneath the willow we did meet,
my magical muse met me.

Singing the song of my soul.