I Wrote The Perfect Poem!

Having wrote the perfect poem, I placed it in a drawer, Alas, for me, my luck's turned grim, It's not there anymore! I took the drawers out one-by-one, The contents on the floor, Not finding it was not much fun, It cuts me to the core... Nobody's been here, that I know, Where has my poem gone? To lose it now is such a blow, No hope to build upon... This situation's quite absurd, A worn-out marathon, I can't remember every word And won't do later on... I guess my poem's not that great, So I've no need to pout, No cause for me to celebrate, No need to fret about... If God could send an angel down, I'm sure he'd help me out, His wings could soothe away my frown, His words could end my doubt... I'm always leaving things behind, Last week, I lost my pen, Too many things upon my mind, I'm just like other men... I wish I'd got that poem scanned, A copy there and then, I'd have it here, right in my hand! ! ! But that's just me... again...