The title of this poem is “Lost”
and I think, of course it is.
You’ve probably only been searching
for a year or two.
And most likely in the wrong places.
You’re not even getting warmer,
the child in me wants to say.
A half century ago all my poems
were titled “Lost.”
And I can tell you this,
Although you won’t believe me,
Is not the endgame for a poet;
It’s not even the starting gate.
At my age,
You’ll still be mixing metaphors.