Poof --gone

I Need A Notebook

I'm of Irish extraction and much given to words
with which I make magic, at least so I have heard

I sure hope that the readers of my poems will agree
but there are some of my poems that they'll never see

Poems that are lost, simply dissolved in the ether,
poems made of thoughts never put down on paper

Sometimes I make strophes that I should write down
but if I don't, then those verses are gone and I frown

Now, how in hell do I get my good stuff back,
it's a mystery to me, I fear it forever will be

Perhaps it's through the binary, boolean bits,
like yes/no, on/off, and simple one/two hits

They'll process the stuff that's run through my brain,
it's in there, yet, I'm not sure I'll find it again

'cause I'm sure not a computer, no, I'm flesh and bone
and if I don't put poems to paper then dammit they're gone