Every now and then

a memory passes me by

I pause as I recall

give a little smile,

those moments are precious

fragments of my life

the cuttings from the cutting room floor

that did not slip by unnoticed.

In fact they stay intact

unlike many others

those that seem harder to extract.

I know they happened

I was there

occasional names fall from my tongue,

yet the why and where it all was

seems remote lost.

I know for sure it happened

yet it appears

as if all gone,

unlike nostalgia

thats big and bold,

lostalgia is hidden

like golden threads in a fog,

they annoy 

they tease

as you think on whatever it is

until obsessive it becomes

keeps on

and on.

Whatever it was

lurks out there

though it now insists on being lost

the nagging thought just rattles on

until you find it

it will go on

and on

and on.