I hear the rush of inspiration
Flying on the breeze.
I’ve got no pen or paper;
I’ve got no time to freeze.
If I don’t catch it now, flying through the air
The story’s gone right through my head.
The warning signs are there.
A walk, a drive, rest on my bed.
It’s funny how I write this stuff
Because it’s never planned.
It comes from random thoughts
At oddest times not spanned.
Inspired by what?
The muse unknown.
It will pass through
If not wrote down.
Oft times recalled but ne’er so clear,
As that first message in my ear.