I'Ve Lost a Poem

I’ve lost a word. I’ve dropped it somewhere and I can’t find it now. Four syllables, I think, the swathes of a poem. I’ve lost inspiration. And it wasn’t great, you know, just a word, as big as it gets to let the poem come of age in the plantations of paper. I’ve lost moments from my Secret Time’s pendulum and the path my mind follows when it strides off the beaten track. I’ve lost few letters, the aura that renders them a word and the hues they take when they’re stored in mind. I’ve lost a voice from my blood’s volumes its activeness, its mood its subject and its object. Maybe it’s being tricky, just playing a prank or it may only be preparing an epigram ‘The great poet who thought he’s found the word!’