Lost Words

I had it then I lost it;
the words slipped away,
silent and sulking.

Only an hour’s difference,
inspiration shouldn’t be so fickle.
As soon as I allow
my gaze to wander from its own,
it vanishes.

Words are slippery,
newly formed, newly born.
Once set upon the page or
given voice they solidify,
take shape.

I did not abandon them
only sought to delay their inking.
Their song I had not a voice to sing.
But time is of the essence, and we lose
the words we cannot sing.

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