The Count

The list of pages seemed unnumbered, countless dreams stretched along the first page the list of poems I made. How many, I wondered and thought stream along this listed vault? Too tired or too lazy to count I added yet another from my fount. Some though, still lay hidden in my book written by hand along the mood I took. These will never find their way to this poetry soup display. Too deep, too emotional, too personal wielded in rhetoric less versatile, kept safe and un-revealed within my poetry without appeal.