It's a nagging feeling in the back

of my mind.

An itch I cannot reach.

Inspiration is a spark that lights

a fire and dies out quickly. 
 
Today mine fizzled and popped;

nagging, pestering until I took the time

to pause

and let it grow.

You see, without careful attendance

the fire is snuffed out.

And even as I quiet myself and

let my inspiration open its mouth,

I find the words 

evaporated by the time it reaches

the tip of my pen. 

It is hard to know when inspiration 

is worth indulging in,

but I hope to soon spark a fire worth spreading.