Where did that go?

Sometimes you sit there
your mind wandering
fancy thoughts
this and that

Maybe your pen is flashing
your words free flowing
like milk form the breast

The paint grainy watercolour
flashes of colour,
noises
strings of piano
a whistled tone
resonance and bursts of scents.
Or maybe the lines on the paper waver and warp
dancing a long the page as you'd wish they could.


As quickly as it's there, it's gone, and you're left grasping.
What was that?
Where did it go?
Come back please
that was so delightful.

No matter what you do
the brilliance is never as strong
the resonance lost somehow
the briefest of flavors
lost forever; a memory.