More than a Muse

You are,
a little more
than being just a muse
of my countless odes

I have tucked you
in the frail,yellowed page
of my favorite diary,
along with,
my half scribbles
and, the dry carnation,
that you'd quietly pressed in my hand
one languid afternoon.

You come alive often,
without needing a spur,
to become the words
of yet another poem.

I have often scribbled your name
across the vast blue sky.
My fingers, blankly running with
the flow
that spells your name!

I keep you safe
within me,
Like the deer holds the musk.
My days are fragrant
with your thought!