wrote another poem at 3AM

oh to be a poet's muse,
would you seek me the way the words could drive you wild to do?
would you carve my raw and shallow presence
into the light of the sun and the depths of the ocean?
would my every "yes" or "no" tremble through the core of your soul?
i am no poet, but i think about your every stroke of the pen
like the cluster of fireflies drifting through the grass,
brushing the darkness with their glow.
i stare at your eyes that can hold the art alone
and imagine a painting of a castle built in every stone,
the look on your face when you try to focus on your writing,
i wouldn't dare bother if that's the only way i could be of use
perhaps i could be the light while you write at night?
oh to be a poet's muse