Loquacious Pot

Come with me to a sacred spot

Where your muse stirs her loquacious pot

Of stories with scenes for heart and soul.

She anxiously waits to pour them

Into your bowl

Of paper and pen.
Come with me then

To her sacred place

And meet your muse, face to face.
You’ll be amazed and maybe confused

At the power that must never be abused

When stirring up the stories

Of magical glories

In her loquacious pot.

Come with me now to a sacred spot.