Creative Writing on Campus: Poetry

Where Lost Things Go

They're warped into a shallow valley,

Where whispers haunt the clouds.

Trees crack and crook to sideways bends

To make a path never found.

 

A bronze watch, a teddy bear, a well-worn ring.

The items that have aligned

Heart to matter.

 

This place is a river devised to

Divide the banks of those hearing and those listening.

Like a gravitational pull, it does not give a gasping care,

But still it  grounds and holds,

What does not— should not matter.

 

This place is shaped as a clock—

Its hands dominating and steering.

Like time, there is no limit—

No minutes and years to count.

 

No one goes there, but not for lack of want.

But why should we want—

If matter does not matter?