Lost, Not Gone
Little One ...
Why do you weep?
Far too lovely a day for such sorrow ...
Too tender and sweet a cheek to stain with tears.
Your little trinket is not gone ... not really ...
Yes, it is lost beyond your reach, beyond the shimmer of the sun,
But you know it so well, have studied and memorized its shape ...
You have held it and played with it for so long,
Placed its color and form and delight deep within your mind,
And the joy it brought you is locked away in your heart's keep.
Perhaps it has left you now, as all things will, someday,
But don't you see? That is as it should be, Little One ...
For the loss of what we love, is the price we pay for the joy it brings us -
The reminder of its value and worth and affect on our lives.
Our sorrow is but the ache of love everlasting,
And each time you remember your precious bauble,
Each time you feel the tug of separation from it on your spirit,
You will be reminded of how dear it was to you, how priceless,
And you will think of its shape and shine ...
The smooth feel of it in your palm ...
You will smile from the joy its memory brings you, yet,
And it will NEVER be gone from you ... not really.
For like you, Little One,
It shines ... still.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Pick D, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
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