Journey to My Last Page

And as I ponder 
on exactly what my next poem will look like?
I reflect on the very moment 
my muse takes hold of my precious pen
swirling, weaving 
and sometimes even flying over 
to the next page 
lines and lines of imagery
be it, white fluffy clouds 
reaching down
tickling the top branches of the great cypress 
or of a heart broken in two
laid in the gutter in full view?
or even love holding on tight
to a comet that shoots into eternity 
perhaps even an Angel
having tea eating a slice of victoria sponge
on her finest crystal plate?
or even my raven greeting the scarecrow
that lives on the small patch of yellow grass
outside my kitchen window?
I ponder in my own mind
waiting in anticipation 
in hope she will visit me soon
for that one magnificent moment
when my imagery comes alive
my muse, she’s never let me down
and I cannot help but think
just how damn lucky
I am?