Another Poem that I like.

Halfway through shaving, it came --
the word for a poem.
I should have scribled it
on the mirror with a soapy finger,
or shouted it to my wife in the kitchen,
or muttered it to myself till it ran 
in my head like a tune.

But now it's gone with the wiskers
down the drain. Gone forever,
like the girls I never kissed,
and the places I never visited --
the lost lives I never lived.