I heard this poem yesterday, and loved it.
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 car 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 you 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 houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost 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, the gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing is not hard to master
though it may look like (write it!) like disaster.
-- Elizabeth Bishop
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