Lost in Thought

If the images
in my mind
touched my fingers,
a horde of characters
would dance
across the paper
and leap into
the hearts
of those who opened the pages.

But somewhere between
the pallium,
and the digit
which grips their spirits,
a consternate neuron
ushers them along,
deposits their fiber
in a pail
of forgotten narration.

But diligence to the chore
at hand,
arouses the inspiration
of my
creative passion,
until the verse flows
like a bow
across a violin.

Copyright ©2007 by James Burns