They were here, right here, I’m sure
Last night before I slept I’m sure I left them here
By the bed, by the alarm clock
Ready for me to pick up in the morning
I almost babble with panic as fingers scrabble
Over throat lozenges and fake wood veneer
Filled to bursting with the stuff I picked up in school
And added to with things I shaped myself
(haphazard and unwieldy though they were)
Shining and polished, and so so many of them
All ready to use, right here, I’m sure they were
Where did they go?
Could they have been so carelessly mislaid
Or did some thief, clever-creeping come to my room
In the night
In the silence
And take them away?
My years. Where have they gone?
(in response to Studio30Plus prompt "Babble")