Creativity.

I was feeling very creative the other day
Things were coming into my head every second
I was constantly thinking of ideas for poems
Short stories
Songs
Even plays
But the days have passed since then
I'm left with only a memory
Not even that
A memory of a memory
I can only remember the basics
But the poems are still there
Waiting for me to discover them again
Silently waiting
Waiting to shout
Waiting to whisper
Maybe waiting 'til I grab a pen and start writing
Or maybe this is exactly what I'm supposed to be thinking
This is the memory
I've found it
Exactly what I've been waiting for
The rhyme scheme is off a bit though