Sometimes I get an idea for a story, I want to jot it down.
But when my hand comes to the paper, its nowhere to be found.
I could be talking or cleaning, and suddenly its there.
The words overflowing from whatever creative well inside there is inside a person.
But like a fire consumes wood as it burns.
Time consumes my words till there is nothing.
But now my words are not all lost.
They are quick to find paper as soon as they appear. Well most of them.