To Poems Lost,

To you who sat on paper drenched
behind the shower curtain,
for I could not get the shampoo
and the soap out fast enough--
dry towels lingering in their mocking silence.

To Poems Lost,

To you who sat unbuckled
in the passenger seat
with the window rolled down,

your flowery head
sticking out catching the cool breeze
in the evening sky,

I, suddenly aware of dangers imminent,
reached with one hand to
hastily buckle you in

and alas--
I lunged,
hoping to pin you
to the upholstery;

you leaned farther and farther
out the window, 'til the current
grasped you by the throat
and ****** you into the night air--
away into oblivion.

I cursed and moan'd,
jabbing and grasping hopelessly at the space
that once entertained your angelic presence.

To Poems Lost,**

Peeking slowly into my consciousness
mistaken for silly dreams,
I awoke in bed--dripping a cold sweat,
breathing heavily.

I laughed abruptly, lightly,
trusting my mind to remember your fleeting ghosts,
moments of serendipitous ecstasy,
a mild epiphany;

so I dared myself not to reach for my pencil
sitting eagerly atop my bedside dresser,
where the concerned blank page pleaded  
with my muddied conscience.

Tired eyes had just as soon closed shut,
and I awaited you as my bedfellow yet again
to wake me up timely in dawn's breach of night.

And alas--
I woke up,
finding the covers next to me ruffled,
but the body that had authored such vexations
appearing to have slipped into the void.

Had you followed my childhood fears under the bed?
Did you fall with a thud to the stifling carpet,
where protruding claws raked you into the hungry abyss?
I squelch'd the urge to hang my head over the bedside and seek you.

In light's breach of slumber,
before the lids of my eyes peel'd back,
did you leap out into the Lovely
to be whisked away into the brisk morning air?

Either way, you are gone,
so I curse and moan,
clutching the lonely bed-sheets
that once wrapt your transient spirit.

I still wait, eagerly,
for your return,
my lovelies.