The Last Muse



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She was the last
Of her kind.
The last of the muses,
Sprite women who whispered
Inspiration into the ears
Of artists and geniuses.

One by one,
Her sisters disappeared
As they were no longer needed,
Their voices drowned out
By the droning of modern life.

She was now gaunt
And she knew her days
Were numbered, so
She donned her best dress
And got her favourite parasol,
Then waited for her fate.

It came four days later,
She was frozen in her steps
And slowly her body
Turned into gold dust
And in the breath
Of the digital world,
She blew away.

The last of the muses
Disappeared and
No one was there to
Mourne her loss.