I found a poem at work.
It was tied up in red tape,
Under dusty stacks of paper.
I pried the words loose with my staple extractor,
Then stuck them round my monitor on bright post it notes.
I found a poem on the beach,
Hiding under some jetsam and seaweed.
As I kicked its slimy home,
The words tried in vain to scuttle to safety,
While I eagerly chased them brandishing my net.
I found a poem in a church,
Trapped among the dusty tomes of a tired sermon.
I resurrected the words from their stuffy grave,
Sending them into the light
With my blessing.
I found a poem in the last place I expected.
Lurking in my head among my memories and fears.
I tried to lure the words out,
But they flatly turned me down,
Saying they wanted to stay where they felt safe.