Lost

Time brought her the meaning of life

and placed it down at her front door

but slightly, oh, ever so slightly

off to the right so she didn’t trip

and land prone on the ground of her birth.

Now gypsies, you know, traverse here and there

and don’t believe in walking straight lines

so over she went and swallowed and swallowed

enormous amounts of dirt from the earth.

She chocked and spluttered until finally knew

she had to get up and leave it behind

but dirt in these not so merry times

manufactures its own special glue. 

So down to the river (there’s always a river)

but where, oh, where, is that special one

that will gladly accept the intolerable

and make believe it never ere was?

So tired and weary the gypsy had grown

from searching and searching to no avail

that she turned about face to make her way

back to the meaning of life.

Too many hills and too many dales

and so much underbrush to clear away

that finally, finally, she had to admit

she was plain and simply completely lost!