Unfinished

Image result for old clock still life

Unfinished

Sadly, I’ve lost
the time I stashed

to write these words.
It might be gathered

behind the bookshelf,
a nest of dog hair and dust

or, perhaps, like an errant penny,
it’s pinched between

two couch cushions
with a stale potato chip

and a wrinkled candy wrapper;
therefore, rather than rush,

fill this page with ink,
risk blotting its purity,

for now, I’ll abandon
all verse and rhyme,

slip my intent beneath a shadow
and, shift away, hoping to stumble

upon a moment, an instant,
saving these treasure

so I might return and author
a word or two more.

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