Paul Archer - photo Paul Archer - poet, translator



Can't Think What It Can Be

It nags at you as you stand
On the doorstep, it's time
To leave but you hesitate
To shut the door behind you,

Or as you run to catch the 7.03
On a bleary-eyed Monday morning
After two day's break - too short
For all you'd planned to do,

Or simply when the day's windy
And sunny and your daughter
Has a will to buy a kite -
And you let it fly free

It comes more often now,
It's there before you sleep,
Something you've left behind -
But can't think what it can be.

© Paul Archer - All Rights Reserved