Hoards Happen

She lost one of the rings
Climbing into the car.
It dropped between her seat

And the center console,
And she cursed she’d never
Find it in there at night,

But if she didn’t look
Now, she’d just forget it.
And so she did. The ring,

From a cheap novelty
Package of six, stayed lost.
Sometimes her father thought

To dig around under
The car seats, in the mess
Of old coins and wrappers,

But he never found it.
Once, it reminded him
Of something about poems,

Something about writing,
And he meant to write that,
But he forgot that, too.