The Lost Poem

I should have stopped
on my way up the stairs
after my morning coffee
when that idea for a poem occurred to me.
It was dark and early
and you were asleep in our bed
with our son in my spot.

I didn’t stop and write it down though
and it is somehow lost with the rest of my morning-
the sun rise that was so saturated with light,
the new air that was more crisp than I can describe
and the kiss I left you both with when I said goodbye.

These things, and, of course, the poem
are all lost to me as this day
just like every day before it
closes on itself.