Pretty Poetry

I think I dropped a poem here somewhere
It slipped through my fingers
To creep sulkily into the cracks in the wall

It was rather pretty
A pantomime of colours and dreams
Of happy endings and Everlots

I think it was small
Easy to lose or forget or forego
Perhaps that is why I lost it
Why it no longer felt important enough to linger

I’ve been searching frantically for days
Under my pillow
In my chest drawers
Behind my desk
Under the carpet

It really was pretty
I’m sorry I lost it.