As to Who Keeps Them, Who Knows

There are many secret homes
In the woods of memory,
Not collapsing, well-maintained,

Ready for you to find them,
But life and the mind conspired
To let woods overgrow them,

Tangled and consumed the paths,
So you thought you forgot them
When, actually, you lost them.

They’re there. They’re just hiding
And waiting for the blunder
That brings lost thoughts home to them.