Faith Hope and Charity
three divine graces
yet my muses come to me
without any faces.
They enfold me with words
enchanting to keep
but too often they rouse me
when I am fast asleep;
my mind they can channel
longing to be heard,
their anthems keep me a slave
for I pen every word.
I don’t know who they are
or where they belong
but nightly they come beg me
“Make poems from our song”
© Stella Armour 18-01-2017
photo William Blake 3 sisters
