Lost Poetry

Eyes scan the crowd,

Ears perked for the familiar,

My nose is ready

To pick up the scent.

My gaze shifts constantly,

Focusing on all.

My eyes rest never

As I search for poetry.

The sounds of crowd

Is filtered by my ear,

Focusing on none,

As I search for poetry.

The scent of crowd;

Sweet, sweat, sour

Is discarded aside

As I search for poetry.