Muse

You land in the capital, you come to accuse
You fight money laundering, subject so abstruse 

You need a place, there’s too many to confuse 

You want something nice, nothing too loose

You settle on a Guest house, call it a truce

There’s no stimuli, no cheer, nothing to induce  

Then we meet in a cafe, you dress in perfect hues

You wore nice danglers, order a choco mousse 

I drink my filter coffee, it feels like booze

Its the intoxication that your eyes ooze

I try to distract, I try to diffuse

I take out my phone I pretend to use 

You don’t see me or my fruitless cues 

I look here and there, I feel so obtuse

I think of something, I discard any excuse

I close my palms and employ a cunning ruse

I extend my hands & let you choose

I make you an offer you can’t refuse 

My dear sweet girl, will you be my muse?

My own sweet girl, will you be my muse?