Fracturing a thought

As it fell from my mind.

Picking up the pieces

Of those I can find.

I'm seldom this careless

With thoughts That are mine.

They are my backbone,

My world and my time.

How could I write each day

If my thoughts ceased to exist.

Yes, each one is precious,

Even those that persist.

Yes there are a few who bug me,

And want to be used.

But I am the bard,

And at times have refused.

Their day will come;

Sooner or later They'll find

A place in my repertoire,

Where I can release them from my mind.