How did it happen, where did it roam,
Where has it wandered, the lost poem.
The stanzas were written in the pages of my mind,
but never transcribed in places for others to find.
I tried to recapture the verses but they had left,
why did I not guard the memory or was it a theft.
The world often distracts us and steals what is sown,
Now the poem lost forever will spend eternity alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is what happens to me all the time or most of the time, so beautifully you have captured the essence we all often feel while writing anything creative, one moment we have that jwel of an idea and the next minute, it just flies by. Excellent poem with great rhyme.