In a flash of a thought
a poem can fly into head like jet.
Or gently come with breeze
of lovers smile.

Sometimes a poem is hidden
under layers of memories,
like sheets from a private interlude.

Other times a poem,
is woven with emotions
where tears become ink
scripted into page
A lenses eyes
can snap a moment in time
destined for written phase.

A poem is a magnet for a pen,
and a pen the magnet for the mind.
A splendid team.