The Dying Thought (Poetry)

Bright — sharp to begin with
it demanded full attention
glinting with dynamic edge
flexible in all its prodding newness
and eager to be used —
flourished, put to work
allowed to grow and multiply —
fulfill its possibilities.

It nagged, relentless, tugging
at the mind’s long sleeve —
flicked away for being tiresome
returning, pleading, constant as an ache ignored
becoming fainter — an echo of itself —
smothered slowly under doubt
until the whole idea
dwindled to a sigh — and so we buried it.