Sometimes

Sometimes, when sweeping under the bed or behind the dresser, you will come across an old poem One that has been forgotten about Or, going through the clothes closet, trying on jackets not worn since last winter, a folded paper in a pocket reveals a collection of lines A few half shaped rhymes And a message you once knew had to be known And what is to be done with such unmissed missives? These pieces of poesy past on a warm April afternoon Heck if I know It's time for a late lunch and I really can't think when hungry