I'll be yours.
If you let me.
I'll make you see
A world
In a grain of sand,
I'll be your Blake-
If you let me.
I'll teach you
To walk in beauty,
Like the night.
I'll be your Byron
If you let me.
I'll show you
The moon-
Behind and full
I'll be your Coleridge
If I must.
I'll remind you
The no man
Is an island.
I'll be your Donne
Whenever you want.
I'll take you
To the brightest stars
Steadfast and unchangeable.
I'll be your Keats,
If it be your will.
I'll compare you
To a summer's day,
And it will shine in ink.
I'll be your Shakespeare,
If the need arises.
I'll be the lines
That you need
To create
A masterpiece.
For I am Calliope.
Well now, that’s quite the poetic resume—enough to make the Muses form a union and demand better metaphorical working conditions. But if you are Calliope, I do hope you brought your own pen. The last one turned into a swan. Or a tax auditor. Hard to tell these days.
💥