Seeking the Lost
They are the tools I use to get away from it all—
my car keys with the Lucky Strikes chain,
and they are missing again.
It is my connection in case of emergency.
It is my cell,
and it is misplaced, as well.
It is my help in times of forgetfulness—
my rock made of paper.
It is my day planner.
It is the commander of my hands.
It is my mind,
and it is forgetful sometimes.
I seek the lost everyday,
for I am every bit as lost as they.