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missing bag

pen in hand
etching the details
of this life
as it comes
no planned out
in lead, weighted
no on a whim
as does the times
adjust to the choices
so we think
we are on the right trail
then as if shaken awake
you realize the life has
passed you by
and is now
of little meaning
to make a meaning
an imprint
smears are clear
and hard to erase
surely not enough
time left
to clear
the slate
so here
i wait
until
the day
of new beginnings
of a different dawn
one not to make you yawn
wondering where the
missing pieces are
will be a thing of the past
if there really is a past
a present   a future
maybe someone was handed
my bag and i theirs
—please give it back

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