The Lost Poem

2:25 in the morning the Wednesday before Thanksgiving

The vacationers next door enjoyed a loud pool party full of laughter

It would make for a useful sound for an alarm clock

While I tossed and turned, I tried to avoid thoughts of petty revenge

In my head, I composed a poem of eight lines

And  I thought to myself I would remember in the morning to write it down

Four hours later when I woke again at my usual time

The poem was lost.

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