The poet woke up in the night

To find his muse

Putting on her clothes

And preparing to leave.

‘You don’t notice me any more’.

It gave him cause to think.

Why always seek youth

To attach herself

Like a mussel to a string

And hang from him

With her full-body kiss

No matter how the tide swelled?

And he wondered

If perhaps what he needed

Now was a mature muse

Who would lead him by the hand

To a picnic

By the riverbank

Where he could watch

The sinking sun

See the last butterfly of summer

And the first leaves slowly falling

On their blanket on the grass

Someone to pamper him with dreams

And memories

And spare him the torments

Of lust and its eternal raging.