Lost, Unfound

Usually lost, never found,
keeping his thoughts smothered,
Tom sought not to discover

but to be discovered.

Back when it wasn’t fashionable,
at the high school hop,
he waited for her

to ask him to bop.

Although wit was always
at the tip of his tongue,
he waited to be called on,

because he was young.

Tom pondered and planned
his course to be bold.
He thought no one cared

because he’d grown old.

Alone, lonely, garage door down
taking the lead with his last breath,
hoping, waiting, wanting to be found,
and he was, when he was, discovered by death.

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