Once They'Re Lost Poem by David Howerton
Once They'Re Lost
Old books piled
every dusty room
notebooks scattered
on every stack.
Some full others not
just gathering poems
on pages most bad
a few worth typing.
Can't find half finished sonnet
start throwing
filled notebooks in boxes
as they fill
put in garage
a couple years before rereading.
Only then will half-finished poem
let itself be found,
muse playing games.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 11:25:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
