Lost
My class registration’s lost in the mail;
My sock’s somehow lost in the dryer.
My Wi-Fi gets lost in the bedroom;
For baking I’ve lost my desire.
I’ve lost what I need to drink coffee at night.
I’ve lost all my youthful-type vigor;
But the loss that I fear more than anything else
Is my marbles, more than mortis rigor.
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment