Scattered here upon my desktop

Are all these little scraps of paper

It must be a habit I apparently can’t stop

For there is an abundance, that’s for sure

They seem to have a language of their own

A staccato union of a couple words or more

I look at them and release a befuddled moan

What was the purpose of this little scrap I tore

I see the word starlight and ponder at its purpose

And another one whispered a secret into the fog

These Little scraps of paper with things to discuss

That are perhaps an observation or an encrypted log

I try to piece them together thinking they may somehow fit

But try as I may, they won’t mush together to make any sense

I’ve gathered them all into one large pile and I’m about to quit

When suddenly there’s a vision as if it’s to be my recompense

Words by themselves or a clustered few on paper ripped or torn

Little ragged canvases with images painted on them in letter form

A snapshot of an elusive thought captured and scribbled without scorn

Little scraps of paper like stages with tiny acters that are waiting to perform

Waiting to burst into action in an attempt to portray the sentiment of a thought

To convey some elusive significance that was quickly splashed upon the paper

And now I am to look at them and decipher the image that these few letters have caught

My mind has misjudged my ability to resurrect the ghost of such a fleeting allure

To reanimate the creations that had been laid down upon these little scraps

To bring to life that glowing ember that once existed in the flame of creativity

So, I will look again at what they say and who knows, perhaps

I will discover their very essence and finally set them free