Over flowing piles
Of sweatshirts.
They creep into every corner
One foot without a shoe,
Notebooks and swim bags,
Piles and piles of hair.
These things are lost,
Their owners misplaced.
Searching and searching
But without a trace
Their lost and gone
And missing again.
Lost inside the
Cluttered mess of
The Lost and Found.
You look and search
But to much dismay,
You can't find
What you came to search.
Its lost for now and forever,
Inside the lost and found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem