Immortal Hand or Eye

Today, I wrote you a poem, and I forgot it soon after.
It wasn't the words of the poem that mattered, nor its meaning
Not the symbolic sound devices
Not the unusual rhythm, nor the clever imagery
It wasn't even the poem itself that mattered
It's that today, I thought of you
And I can't remember the poem, so I wrote another one, just now
And it goes like this:

You cannot be captured
By poetry.