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Poem
I looked in the file cabinet but I could not find it there.
It obviously had not been filed; I began to look elsewhere.  
I looked on the lamp table beside the green armchair.
Only to find my poem was gone, but I did not despair.

I looked in drawers in every room; frustration did forbear.
Exactly where I put my work, I was not aware.
I looked beneath my knitwear, my neck-wear, and nightwear.
My poem, lost in a nightmare, had vanished in thin air.

I began to search the kitchen, aggravation in full glare. 
I looked behind the china, the stoneware, and glassware.
I looked between the pots and pans, beneath the new cookware.
All too soon, my family knew my recall required repair.

So, I retraced my every move as fear began to blare.
There was nothing else to do but eat a chocolate éclair.
(But I was on a diet; so, instead…yea, right…I ate a pear.)
And all of this I did before my heart felt great despair.

“My Dear” came to help me, for I could find the poem nowhere.
At times like this, when things are lost, life seems so unfair.
The devil cast his fiery net, but my soul he did not ensnare.
I calmed myself, my hope was bare, and then, I said a prayer. 

It was soon discovered, after I cried, but did not swear.
That it was in the computer room, not stolen by some corsair.
A plastic drawer behind my chair had become my poetry lair.
Forgotten works, unfinished thoughts, old poems were nestled there.

Relief, now sighed, I caressed the page, new verse written with care.
And it was not long after this dreadful affair that I became aware.
Each poem that flows from a poet's heart is written with personal flare.
Uniquely styled, with passionate views, shared insights, loved and rare.

Whether upon the computer or on paper a poet's poems find air.
Each published thought from soul to man must be carefully stored somewhere. 
So, when upon a summer's steam you write your thoughts so fair.
Put them in a most safe place, consistently, and you will find them there.


© July 12, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
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