by AnnaB

Created on: February 08, 2011

Where’s that napkin?

You remember the one, that napkin…

I put in my pocket, filled with notes.

Words plentiful floating around soon scribbled and filling my coats—

Seems my best thoughts are scribbled when I’m out and about.

How soon, the words fall, sitting in a restaurant with nary a shout.

I’ve a pocket full of notes, a scribbled word, here, a scribbled word there.

Oh, how my broken pen has once again bled, filling my pockets with many a care.

All my notes tucked away, in a pocket.

Bits and pieces of me hidden in a scribbled word, parts of a broken poem—

It’s a poem you see.

Yet, how I’ve lost it, it was on a napkin, in my pocket, it was written to set you free…

All my hopes and dreams, were written on a napkin.

Written down, because my memory it is fading, forgetful, and lacking.

Hurry fast, search every pocket, my dear, did you not hear?

All my hopes, dreams and memories are hidden in my poems, even my final last tear.

Look carefully, please search each and every pocket, it’s there I know.

Search every pocket, for there is a poem it is on a napkin, on a napkin.

Hurry fast as I must go, I’ve much to do, if I could but remember, my memory its slacking…

Fading away is my memory, but I know, you’ll find a poem in yonder pocket, yesterday.

Yesterday, yesterday, it’s faded and gone, perhaps too has my poem been laundered and wandered away…

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