A Drunken Depiction of One’s Muse

The Muse is nothing but a
man in a top hat,

Adjacent to the cigarettes
In between the spiced-rum,
Resembling a cadet
Or maybe a noble man’s son,
He sat with a top hat
Look! There he is sat,
Wait, darn it
He’s walked out of the door
and left his top hat where he was sat,
Who on earth,
would forget such a fine hat?

The Muse is just another silly man in a top hat.

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