I had a short poem in mind
when I came here to write
it up, but had forgotten
it by the time the computer
was on, the white blank
screen waiting the touch
of fingers on the keyboard.
The poem had gone, erased,
and one might say it would
never happen with a pen
or a pencil and piece of paper,
but I have forgotten many
a poem seeking a pen
or a pencil, a scrap of paper.
01.-16.04.2025
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