Sandy Substance

Feb 24, 2008 - 22:06 PM PST

A story idea
Shimmers on the horizon
Like a mirage,
An image as promising as a glass of water
And a shady palm
Swaying in a friendly breeze
That keeps the grit of failure
Matted down upon the dunes.
As I traverse the desert of my mind
Like a chimera
The idea rises and gives a mighty roar
And boldly swishes its tale.
Yet, as I settle at the keys,
That prose I sat to write
Takes flight
Upon the wings of fickle fortune
That dangled such a morsel
In front of my mind's sight.