Ideas arrive like small sparks
Not enough to light a fire
But bright enough to to distract you
Some cling to the edges of your thoughts
Thin as spider webs
Trembling with the weight of expectation
Others stagger around aimlessly and fall into oblivion
Ideas do not come with a manual or a tool kit to finish the build
They do not explain themselves
They press against your silence
Asking to be acknowledged
Not seeking approval
Simply wanting recognition
Left untouched they will fade away
Leaving a feint trace
A memory of what might have been
Embraced ideas will sometimes flourish
Especially if you develop them with a passion
Occasionally emerging from the sea of your imagination onto the dry land of reality
Waiting patiently for that inevitable question at a dinner party
And where are you from?
Replying
I was just an idea before
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 