Why is it that so often, the poems you try to write,
Only come into your mind, in the middle of the night,
Suddenly, a really wonderful, sentence comes to mind,
And then you start to mould some more, and that is when you find,
That come the morning, it has gone somewhere within your brain,
And however much you try a recall, it will never come again.
But if you get up to jot it down, it's not at all a good idea,
As once you've become wide awake, your sleep is never near.

Why can't we have a file in there, to which these 'flashes' go,
And with a www.poemsinthemind.com, we could reproduce them, so
That every time we start to think, we need not have to fear,
For then, when we get a super line, it's kept for all to hear.

© Ernestine Northover

Ernestine Northover

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/www-poemsinthemind-com/