posted in: daily poem, Poem Diem 2015, poetry | 0
I still get a little mad
when I think about what’s been lost along the way:
that sweater that my sister gave me,
ones of my favorite socks,
that tiny piece of technology, probably plowed away with the snow,
the dirt I thought I’d never have a yard for,
the scissors that cut the fabric of my wedding dress,
the scissors that will hopefully turn up again.
But some things will never be found.
We were moving too fast and they were left behind.
What else did we miss?
We missed chances,
we missed opportunities,
we misunderstood,
we misspoke.
If I could go back and gather up what I’ve lost,
I’d blow past all the big moves where the things went missing,
and I’d go straight to the heart of the times we did have,
and try not to miss a beat.