The Fragile Nature of Ideas
They overlap, the thoughts that greet the day,
And pen or keyboard cannot seize them fast enough,
To put in order before they slip away
Like random, blown-from-dandelions fluff.
The duties of the day impose control
Can anything not imperative abide?
To recapture or shed the wispy whim of soul
That tempted duty to be thrown aside.
To put in order vague ideas and dreams
Does not need to lead to twinge of guilt.
How many accomplishments have themes:
Of what the dreams devised, the builder built.
©05/23/2011 Carol Morfitt