My fingers move swiftly across the keys
because my muse has come to light
From early in the morning
Too late at night.
He makes me feel at ease,
Those dark brown eyes.
The safe place I go to at night.
A light so warm and bright.
The smile I hear in his voice
My motivation to type.
To write.
My muse is the morning and night,
The boy who makes my smile bright.