I ought to start praying
To wind gods.
Ideas are
Much like zephyrs
Gone the second they are felt
And much like the wind
You can't trap
A phrase
Defeats the purpose
To have it wither away
Day by day
Kept from reaching it's end
After all, beauty lies
In transience.
In transience
I like.
I read 5 of your poems.
All appeal to me.
Thank you.