I was pouring the last drops of water
Into flower pots on my bedroom sill
When a thought struck me strongly.
An esoteric idea -
So I grabbed my notebook, speared a pencil
And sat on the edge of the bed to write:
There can be no argument …...'
My husband stuck his head around the door,
I turned and smiled, 'Just fine, thanks.'
And skewed back to my words.
'I think …..'
So boldly begun, with purpose.
But my mind was wiped, absolutely blank.
Whatever the thought had been
That light bulb moment was gone.
I couldn't woo it back.
It had been an unrelated brain bolt -
Dribbling water into plants!
I stared at the first two words with real regret.
And then I chuckled.
Just possibly, 'I think …' was the basic idea itself
And 'there can be no argument'
Was my personal spin on a universal.
Maybe it was a two line poem
Casting a hook into the Sea of Minds
To see what it could catch
It didn't seem right to scrunch it into the waste basket.
It had sprung into existence on its own.
So –has it ever happened to you – a bossy poem?
Cynthia Buell Thomas, October, 2019