Funny how I’ve lost it.
Has it slipped my mind forever?
You’d think I’d have embossed it
and preserved it thus from Never.
Could I call it back,
I’d have it mounted on my forehead.
Oh, forgotten song!
Will you turn up in the lore?
Never could remember
much that went out with the season.
From New Years’ through December,
seems I never had much reason.
Didn’t seem of worth.
I told myself, “There’s nothing to it.”
Unforgiving creed,
will you call me to my tune?
Melody’s elusive
when it’s one that you’ve forgotten,
though cloying and obtrusive
when the key you’re in is rotten.
Fleeing Bethlehem
as if I were some vengeful Herod,
voided wind of me,
must you vanish in the air?
Destiny, they call it –
what you keep and how you lose it.
Perhaps if I had scrawled it down
or otherwise amused it,
it had stayed with me –
and proud indeed that I did own it.
Sweetly measured strain,
please return your sense, your tone.