I had every intention of writing something down,
But I didn’t; I neglected to
Seems it wasn’t important
Now I’m waiting for that thought to come to me again
It’s no matter really
I must have thought about it a hundred times today
Strange how it escapes me now
As if it was just some passing fancy
It wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t a dream
It was a thought so tangible, I embraced it
It had become something separate from me
Even though it was entirely my own
It came to life and
It separated itself from creator;
Turning its back forever,
Inventing an identity of its own
I must have thought about it a hundred times today
Maybe I just don’t recognize it anymore
I had intended to write it down,
But I didn’t; I neglected to.
