I need to confess:/
Today was strange for me. /
You inspired, I guess,/
substantial creativity./

More than I usually get,/
at least in Proseaic form./
You gave verbal fodder to vett –/
much more than the norm./

And when that Muse strikes me/
so strongly it can’t be ignored,/
I must obey, wrong or rightly,/
and write down every word./

But be at peace and know you, though confused and bemused,/
are not the object of the story (sorry!), but only the Muse.