Day 134

I had something clever to say.  It might have even been a poem. But now it’s gone.

Where do poems go when you fail to write them down? Do they still live in your brain, like that one card in the card catalogue stuck to the back of the box, forgotten and forlorn? 

Maybe they are temporal.  Maybe the only exist in the moment that they come, like sunsets or lightening or snowflakes. No two are exactly the same, and they can’t be replicated.  

I miss them. 


~ by realsupergirl on May 14, 2015.

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