The Lost Words.

You start a new poem with such eager ease,

The words flow like a torrent from your mind.

Then you read the rhyme that has formed,

On the paper in front of you,

And find the text,

Does not show what you meant.

Some words are changed from fresh ideas

That come from a new found river in your mind.

Yes that is better, you think to yourself,

As the page, shows the better sense,

Of the altered words

Read on this newly revised page.

But the words that you dismissively changed,

Garnered  from the  reservoir of your mind

And substituted for those more apt,

What happened to them?

Is it really that,

There is a place where all the lost words go?