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Poem

Over the years
some were carefully carried
tied up in tiny bundles
held tight against the heart

While the other
more awkward ones
were pulled behind in a cart
like so many precious parcels
taken along for the ride

But a few fell
and rolled astray
off by the wayside
along the way

Some were missed
right away
with heartaches and tears

While others were
eventually missed
after some years

And some not noticed at all

I see people now and then
rummaging around
by the wayside
for what they've lost-

Some with long, sharp sticks
poking, prodding absentmindedly 
collecting debris

Some on hands and knees
with brush and trowel
excavating so carefully... but-

Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions

Often what was lost
if it was, indeed, of value at all
will not still be there
after some years
but snatched up and carried away
with care, by another who
saw its worth

Or degraded past
the point of repair
until what was lost
can never be recaptured
or replaced

Or sometimes what was 'lost'
simply wasn't worth keeping
in the first place
but purposefully discarded
cast off like old garments
too uncomfortable to wear

Relationships too heavy to bear
tainted by disrespect
dishonesty, neglect
subtle streams of unkindness
ever-so-slightly visible envy
marking their faces
like red flags

But the idea of
something having been lost
is powerful, and nags
at our hearts 'til we forget-
these things and their cost
yes, we forget-

Most of the time
the wayside is no place
for happy reunions

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