It always comes to me, while I am in bed. That fragment of a moment between dream and awake.
If I would, I could go to write, but nothing would make sense. Even now,
it doesn't make sense.
Which isn't new for me.
But, I would like to think, that if I did try to write something down, the pieces would fall into place.
Like little white magnets on the refrigerator.
You know the ones, the little words you can scramble them up to make really not so profound, silly phrases.
Here I am and I feel like I am missing the important words. The Nouns are there. But the adjectives are vague. And the adverbs are painful.
Perhaps the little words fell behind the refrigerator. Never to be seen again.
Because I am scared to look behind my refrigerator...
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