Inspiration

She let him touch

Her lava lamp

Last night in the

Metaphysical,

Where artists

And sculptors stroll,

Composers play,

Poets pen their feelings.

Those planted purely

In the physical

May never understand,

Perhaps she

Will not remember,

When her fingers

Brushed across his hand

The painters sketched,

The composers played,

The poets penned,

All filled with inspiration.

Stephen Nesbitt ©