I look through all my papers.

I search but cannot find.

Exploring notes and all my files,

I hunt my absent mind.

But I can't find them anywhere.

I seek throughout the day.

I cannot sleep as stars come out

Have I... something to say?

But I can't find the words to use.

Thoughts pierce me like a knife.

My life could be much better if

pure words rhymed with my life.

Escapes me, though, the letters

that float away on streams,

winding through the rapids fast,

that disappear with dreams.

Oh, how can rhyming phrases flow

and sentences galore -

when I can't find mere letters here?

The phrases come no more.

If only I could find them...

the words, so you could know 'em,

then I could write the stanzas down

in one breathtaking poem.

Instead, I guess I'm getting old

and running out of words

that float away on rivers or

are carried off with birds...

So here I sit with naught to say -

so let me just be frank.

Who'd care to read another line?

(intentionally left blank)

©2015 louis gander