In that dark hall of heaven
where umbrellas go to roost,
single socks line the threshold,
magenta pink, blue, grey and gold.

Sunhats deck the awning,
mobiles hang in droves;
raincoats speckle the morning,
alongside slews of discarded clothes.

Lost keys dangle in mourning
for their locked-out owners rage;
memory sticks glitter forlornly
in a forgotten memory glade.

The angels stretch out yawning;
eye the assorted treasure;
flip through it as day is dawning,
in their infinite moments of leisure.

As frantic owners cry out
to the blissful heavens above-
it must be here, where can it be?
Have you seen it? Truthfully?
How can I live without...?