Sparks, flittering beyond tangency
Forever out of reach and inexplicable.
It needs to be fulfilled, on-going ardency
The thing that does it inadmissible.
An intricate web of golden silk
They were nothing less than a muse
A gift that I would have to milk
Two hopes that would never quite fuse
Fingers flying across keys, effortlessly
Giving me the things I write
Pouring out words ceaselessly
Forever there, my own little light.
This is my response to today’s daily prompt