Lost and found,

In a dusty mound,

Pay a hefty toll,

To the nasty troll.

Buried underneath,

Guards this heap.

A treasure trove of keys,

Blunder of the bold,

Tears down his cheeks.

Subterranean canals,

Disappearance banal,

Possessions ache to leave,

An empty soul bereaved.

Is there a special section in heaven

where I might find my loving?

What did you lose?

A bottle of booze,

Or a bag in a train,

A gold chain?

Childhood innocence,

Or blind love in a sense?

Stark emperors,

Or the mark of empires?

Rarely soothes the sting,

The nostalgia drink.

Want the comeback?

Want it all remade?

Do not dare!

Do not stare!

Layered with the dust,

Lying there to rust.

For the readers

We, the modern folks have difficulties forgetting the past. Our obsession with nostalgia, histories and unearthing lost civilisations knows no bounds. Must we remember everything, the traumas and the victories. Whatever is lost should be lost, not found.