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Sabu Francis

Search and Find

I was searching the other day...
To let my mind vent
(perchance this poem?)
I needed a pen.

I opened a drawer
and there in the clutter
peeked a faint glitter;
and then the search did end.

I then thought of
what people often said;
how the lost is found
at the last place sought.

But the contrarian in me
said that it needn't be.
I continued my search
and kept rummaging happily.

What did I find?
Yet another pen?
perhaps another poem?
perhaps another end?

I did find memories
And old thoughts
The differences 'tween
what was; and what was not.

I found wisps of sadness
mixed with seeds gay
Leftovers of madness
Things coloured and gray

My daughter then asked:
"A pen-ny for your thoughts?"
I said I have got the pen
It is the rest that I have not.

On this, she laughed
and I silently sighed:
hoping she can be taught
to differentiate
a search from a find
 

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