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“I have done with you, madam!” He pushed the chair backwards so harshly, she thought it would continue on through the wall. “I have urged you to expand and deliver for the last time.”
His eyes were black with thunder and she had to admit she was a touch concerned. She had supposed that a 'no' to his marriage proposal might not go down so well, but she had not expected him to take a verbal swing at her. She supposed that muses were under the impression that writers never say no to them.
“And you may stop smirking, thank you.”
“I am not smirking,” she replied. “Far from it. In fact, I am rather hurt.”
“You're hurt! I am the one who has been rejected.”
“I only said I did not want to marry you. I never said that I didn't want you close by me.”
In truth, she could barely breathe at the thought that her highwayman muse may disappear from her life forever.
“You are my guiding star. I don't know how I could begin anything without you."
“If you'd truly believe in yourself, you would be able to create without me," he sighed. "I've known that from the beginning.”
“I might be able to create but would I be as good? Would I be able to use 'excuse', 'banyan', 'canyon', 'forever' and 'mishap' in a poem without you?”
“Probably not. We work so well together, don't we?”
He looked a little wistful.
“Yes, we do. We have an incredible partnership, but I am not the marrying kind nor even the romantic relationship kind.”
She suddenly wished she was both those things. Perhaps she could ... if she just … no. Way too much effort.
“Sorry about that.”
“I understand,” he replied. “I think I had been reading too much Alfred Noyes. The whole romantic ideal was uppermost in my mind.”
“Except that both the highwayman and the landlord's daughter died for their love in that poem,” she reminded him.
“True,” he sighed. “Speaking of which, shall we write the poem you spoke of?”
So they wrote.
There is a banyan tree where my heart lies.
Its roots reach down to my soul's infinity,
Spreading throughout my everlasting existence.
Its branches reach up to the heavens
And shake the sky, searching for meaning.
This life, this now, is no mishap of birth,
I have no excuse for being here
Other than it was destined to be so.
As it was and will be forever,
With you, my guiding star.
“You forgot to use 'canyon',” he said, nudging her shoulder with his as old companions are wont to do.
“So I did,” she laughed, “so I did.”
Inspired by a prompt from Jill Badonsky in The Muse Is IN Writing Club.
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