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Poem	The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther losing faster: places and names and where it was your meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last or next-to-last of three loved housed went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lose two cities lovely ones. And vaster some realms I owned two rivers a continent. I miss them but it wasn't a disaster. --Even losing you (the joking voice a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
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