The Poetess in me is going wild,
Trying hard to be mild,
What can she do,
without much ado?
The Muse still behaves like a child,
Keeping Poetess beguiled.
She doodles here and there,
And follows him everywhere,
He scolds her and says,
“Girl, Mend your ways!
I am just an imagination,
Get rid of this fascination”
I pout and give him a kiss,
How is that possible for this Miss?
Suddenly, I stop and think
“Isn’t this my poem?” and blink,
I am the Poetess and he the Muse
He is born to seduce and amuse!