Words (2)

Words are like
a pilfered fortune
some stay with you
some don’t.

In your waking hours
in your sleep
in the twilight zone
in between sheets

an idea, preposterous
nascent, nebulous
is like the fluttering
of a gossamer wing

May be gone the
next moment
like a smile hovering
on lips, truant

so, stop,
drop, and write
lest the epiphany
flees

and serendipity 

melts