When I awoke one morning in the spring
I found that overnight I’d lost an hour.
She wasn’t in the basement or the tower,
the nursery or den or kitchen wing.

I spent my days checking everywhere:
the garden and garage, the swimming pool.
Perhaps my kids had taken her to school.
I tracked down every street and thoroughfare.

Months went by without a single clue.
I began to think that she was lost at sea.
But then one morning, she came back to me.
For half a year my little hour had roamed.
I don’t know how she found her way back home,
because when she arrived, I slept right through.


© by Bill Batcher.
Used with the author's permission.