passing thoughts

sometimes I let poems pass me by
they just seem to slip away
the words float across the atmosphere
and I fail to catch them before they’re gone
they just vanish into thin air
disappearing like snowflakes
or morning dew...
maybe they go to someone else's soul to live
or they sleep for a thousand years
waiting to be resurrected in another lifetime
but that's OK
as long as they don't die.