I lost a poem while climbing up the stairs.
It was almost complete, words and all.
I had thought it all up sitting on a concrete wall.
The night was calm and dark was the sky,
Heck! I even saw some lanterns floating by.
Inspiration flooded me, and I almost drowned,
But neither paper nor pen, I could find.
(Which was kinda obvious, for I was outside,
And facing me was a ground spread wide.)
So I started typing in my phone,
(Damn! Once you learn phonetics, it’s so hard to rhyme.)
So, I typed up some words, about the night and the sky,
Of all the sounds and sights I could sense,
So that once I reach my room, I can poem those words.
Drums in a temple
Engines on the road
Something with “G” and so on
But something happened while I was climbing my stairs.
As if the flood gave way to a searing drought.
As if the words I stored, went up in steam.
As if, well, one more comparison like the ones above.
(For three reinforces, roots it in the ground.)
And when I reached my room, all empty was I.
Thus, I lost a poem while climbing up the stairs.