Lost Poem

I wrote a poem about wonder a few weeks ago 

But it's in a journal I left on a bus.  

So now that poem has a life of its own.  

It’s probably in the garbage, or a lost and found bin.  

I could be sad for the poem,  

But maybe it's better this way.  

Now it is free to be itself,  

Free from my poor editing  

Free from me deciding when it’s ready to be shared.  

Now anyone can love the poem.  

Well,  

Anyone who is lucky, or unfortunate, or curious enough 

To open someone else’s journal 

And read what’s inside.