A Half Remembered Poem From Long Ago-Fail.

Here’s a poem I wrote in college that I no longer have a soft nor hard copy of.  I randomly woke up this morning reciting it so I think I’m trying to tell myself something.  Maybe it’s that I have a terrible memory.  Here goes:

I wonder if, as boys

 Keats or Frost ever thought of counterpoise.

Or pictured the Thames deep yet clear.

Or if Pope was an sincere

As Keats and his lyric odes

Or Frost’s converging roads.

Did Keats ever go apple picking

And ponder time slowly ticking.

And that’s all I remember.   Fuck.  I’ll meditate on it and see if I can remember anymore.  I remember it being better. If anybody has a copy of this somehow let me know.

Fail.