Moments fly and phrases die Like thistledown in breeze, Creativeness evades The minds capacity to seize. Shadows of vast portraiture Do beckon from within Just to dissipate like gossamer When almost penciled in. Sequences of magnitude Dissolve upon the lips And laughter’s spontaneity dies As vapoured humour slips. To fancy pearls of rapture Emanating from the brain Would tax ones capacity To ever fantasize for fame. Frustrations of the frantic day Those rushing points of call Where interruptions, interrupt In fleeting moments all, Where focusing, just shatters In the face of crass demand Where inspiration’s stillborn babes Are delivered cold to hand. Tragic are the losses To the mortified’s dry pen And jubilantly, Satyrs claw Creations’ prize …to them.