The lost words

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We are lost words searching
for a poem we once knew
Somehow we were parted
and it’s left us feeling blue
We feel bereft and lacking
it’s not nice to be alone
We should be with all the other words
in a poem that’s our home

Perhaps we are unusual
yet we’re sure that given time
We’d find our place with all the rest
somewhere that has rhyme
We are ‘orange’; we are ‘rhythm’
warmth and movement guaranteed
Yet no fit to rhyming stanza
a fact by all agreed

We are ‘month’ and we are ‘walrus’
and can be added to a line
But we’ll never be there at the end
as none of us will rhyme
Yet here as you’ve been reading
we’ve been added just the same
And given home with other words
in some poetry again


Photomontage – Jempics (‘Walrus’ from ‘My first book of animals’ by Louise Voce)


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