Being a Gemini
Ideas disappear faster than they come.
I blink my eyes, sigh or cough,
And some have evaporated,
leaving no remnants or hints
Some ideas return in a few days
Others do not return for years.
If at all; some return so far down my lifeline
I do not recognize or remember them
Weirdly enough, ideas I had yesterday
rapidly are typed into a poem
Or painted onto canvas
It is my way to retain them for a few moments
The next day I often do not recognize them.
I am a Gemini; our minds are like butterflies.
We flit and flee, barely touching on things
That matter a great deal right this second
But maybe not at all tomorrow.
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