A Muse
Or reverie
Thoughts cannot be numbered
They float looking for glue
A concept to hold onto
An idea out of the blue.
Like transparent bubbles
Escaping without strings
They drift around my memory
Then disappear on wings.
Sometimes I snare a concept
A word or memory
And ruminate the meaning
A muse or reverie.
I transform it into letters
And often into rhyme
And add to it some concept
Brainpower and some time.
The results are undecided
And spiced by evocation
Depending on the feeling
The person and location.
They may be understood
Or on another plane
And differ from others’ opinions
Or are very near the same.
Concepts are an enigma
They come from deep within
And often like a snake
Glitters in its second skin.
© David Rudder 2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
