An Ode to My Writing Muse

An Ode to My Writing Muse
This is an alternating She than He conversation.
She was the poet, and muse. She was British and I am American, so when you see the different spellings of words you know. Keep that in mind. No Editor was used so be kind

A rumbustious, bumptious, precocious, child,
full of mischievous laughter when running wild.
Chestnut hair, large framed, with big, brown, Jersey cow eyes,
bewitching smile, beguiling ways and naively wise.
Chubby, muddy knees with smears of jam on my face.
adventurous yet innocent enthusiasm all over the place.
Hollow legs, and an appetite to match a zest for life.
Bare footed I would dance on my imaginary stage,
life was my playground and I played and played.
Making friends was so easy to this fun-loving kid.

The term was husky in those long-ago days,
as I trundled through my school yard in a daze.
Being the smallest yet heaviest in the class
seemed only to cause a laugh as I fell on my ass.
Loved to make friends and some were quite good
as I stumbled and bumbled with the boys of the hood.
Always running after the others of my crowd,
never able to run with them but I was proud.
Thickset and dumpy, nervous and shy, but
never picked for the team, that four eye fat boy.

The child grew into a pretty young teen,
but never the most intelligent but she was keen.
Home life was difficult we often went without,
till our drunken father gave up and was kicked out.
Job after job, went to bring home some money
to help out her sister and hardworking Mummy.
She cleaned some toilets and washed pots and pans
and packed thousands of eggs into boxes all by hand.
Used a chainsaw and axe when a big lumberjack
also, a shepherdess living on a mountain bivouac.
Then a bad man came with knife the soul defile
used, and abused, my body, then stole my smile.
It was hard to stay a teen, buried within my own exile.

Then came the day that husky no more could stay,
Stillman's water diet did wash so many pounds away.
Now broad shouldered this lad did learn to sway
to the point he had a hard time keeping girls at bay.
He grew cocky and sure as he always had a date on arm
life was good those last school years, as dates kept me warm.
Started with my dream job a family run company
it brought me in money so could afford dates a plenty

She took her revenge on the bodies of men,
loved them, and left them, again, and again.
Slowly her laughter and smile returned,
a hard lesson in life this woman had learned.
Time after time her adoration was spurned
searching for love that her body now yearned.
Depression set in and she moved north, up county
to meet the man that she could love and would marry.

Then at a party he found a young woman so full of life
It only took him three days to ask her to be his wife.
Her Mother wanted me faithful and had her own way,
she told her daughter to get pregnant, so I would have to stay.
That first try died and hurts us to this very day,
but when we were ready three kids popped out Okay.
Life was good, days turned to years then south we went
As a family to warmer weather that felt heaven sent.

Years go by and her children are grown
the seeds of love that dedication had sown
too much sorrow and pain through the years
death of her babies shedding so many tears
her heart isn’t broken the love just faded away
no one's fault no one to blame it just happens that way
now living together just to keep the peace
she needs so much more, a passionate release
life is so stale she is very bored she is living a lie
I won't just lie down curl up in a ball and die

Miracles do happen its often foretold
I watched as a magical moment unfold
A spur of the moment I just had to say hello
From across the ocean, it did flow.
Through the internet it bounced back and forth.
Just something there that made me follow her lead.
Such a sweet guy he gave me what I needed.
She was hidden behind a social poker site so long ago.
We talked for hours, getting to know each other
Talked and talked about spouse, sister and mother
A friendship grew as we talked away,
We wrote back and forth and were going to stay.
Books we have written, and stories not yet told
Sweet satisfaction in novels we’ve already sold
Our partnership grows stronger in every way
Even for living such a distance away
One day, maybe in the near distant future
I may meet her.
I may meet him.
To write,
Together.

And now to late, I morn her death thousands of miles away.
Never having met her face to face
Our stories are all that I have to remember her by.
Pulling one up every so often.
To remember and cry at what we had.
To My Co-Writer, Friend, and Muse.
RIP