Warrior-Poet waited, restless.
His Muse was late.
Old Earl Grey was sweet. The Biscuit? Tasteless.
No choice, but wait.
Warrior-Poet arose, beaming.
She had arrived.
Like Sun’s dawn, Kalliope’s greeting.
“At last, Courage and Art,” She whispered.
“Quests bring peace and love, hearts contented.”
The Poet cried.
Kalliope bade this man’s stillness.
His courage steeled.
She offered a Quest, most dangerous.
His snare unreeled.
“I must decline,” he calmly explained.
The Muse, silent.
Warrior-Poet’s quest had begun.
“Kalliope, you see, I’ve embarked.”
She sipped her tea.
“Have you not guessed my intent, so stark?”
Puzzling was he.
“You see these truths, yet I will explain.”
Her eyes, wary.
“Kalliope, Muse, I’ve you to gain.”
She? His quarry?
She laughed at this Mortal, Her smile broad.
The Poet grinned.
“Man and Muse could never be,” She said.
Excuse most thin.
“All quests can be won, once they’ve begun.”
The Muse agreed.
“Never ignore the trap once it’s sprung.”
“What trap?” she said.
“Today’s High Tea with Kalliope.”
© All rights reserved, 2016.
Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.