The Poet, On Losing Her Mind, Laments: - Poem by Sophia White
Every time I sit to write
Or get some work done – finally!
I find my mind leagues away
In Some Closet – writing poetry.
Mind, won’t you come back to me?
You’re always in Some Closet.
Why’d I even write that poem
About this place, Some Closet?
Well, darn, it’s too late now.
But I wish my Mind would return,
Comments about The Poet, On Losing Her Mind, Laments: by Sophia White
Edgar Allan Poe
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl