Lost Thoughts

Does anyone know
Where the lost thoughts go
When we slip the hold on our dreams?
At the waking clock
Do they hide like a sock
Unmatched when we fold the wash?

Or perhaps the sheep
Without a peep
Have pulled the wool o'er our eyes;
With slumber most kind
They stole from our mind
And left a fool for ideas.

Yet what if that jester
Who now we think pesters
Our brains in salons of the posh
Was already there
As we drifted from care
To nothing is quite as it seems?

Are we then like the fox
Who casts sour pox
On every delight which flees?
For we can rue
Only the true
Which now is lost in our sighs.


Copyright © 2009 by C. P. Klapper