Words come to me,
Only when I move at pace,
Be it walking, driving, running or flying,
They only stay, when I race.

The moment I stop or pause,
Or Sit down to write what I just felt,
They fade away into oblivion..
The fragrance lingers, alas no words

Everything we intend to etch,
Is just beyond our reach..
Pardon the gap, said the Lord,
When his finger tip didn't touch ours

Its time to move again, prance and pace,
In an effort to stir up them words,
Cook them as a concoction or a poetic phrase,
Words, in ye, I seek solace