Becoming The Muse

I wanted to draw a room with view of the sea,
but I can’t draw things I am yet to see,
I cant dream of places I have never seen.
I can only draw that which is in front of me.

They say the sea is endless, always moving,
but all my sketches end at the street outside;
my paper shoreline is a window,
and a sky without clouds.

The ocean lives in stories that I hear,
in other people’s eyes when they return.
Perhaps one day the sea will enter this room,
and then my hand will finally learn its shape
but until then, I draw with yesterday’s shadows.