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
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