thoughts, especially such of inspirations, never knock the door when they come. Suddenly they are in the corner of your mind’s living room (or bed room. Or garden.), smiling at the corner to you, talking to you at length, captivate you.
You want her to be there to stay longer. She never stays for dinner. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to hold her for tea, but that’s it. One sip and she will politely decline to go. Leave you alone wanting more
Then the moment she is gone, if you don’t fast perserving the existence she left, they will all vanish too off your mind. Not long after that, you can only recalls vaguely, day by day more vague, that there is this one time inspiration drops by to your mind.
Like now, she is about gone from my mind. Freeze my hand, ending it here.