Ideas flitter in my head
like butterflies with feathery wings,
their gossamer grace glimpsed and grasped for.
Elusive, they slip away.
Determined, I reach.
Words are my net.
The page is the frame.
Unspoken and unwritten, they enchant.
Pinned down and cruelly contained,
they are shades,
ink and paper,
earthbound.
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