Inspired by Sunshine and Rilke...thank you both...

O muse of heart who holds the quill
with hands now worn, too tired to write.
O muse of mind please come to be
these words unfound on moonless night.

I whisper from modest refrain
as shame of self turns down my head.
I call with lips that utter not,
my feet won’t move, with heavy lead.

O muse, please lend to this tired man
a hand in grasp to stand yet tall.
My wish to be a poet, my plan
before the leaves of Autumn fall.

To be a poet, not just a pen
and share one's soul, a tear and heart.
O muse of mine, to have this then
become my name till death does part.