Losing your purse in a crowd is
Not as changing as a house divided.
You may lose your keys and money,
But you haven’t lost an ocean.
The papers may fall on the busy street,
And never be found again.
But I’ve lost a shoe, a hand that fits,
And smiles that bind the sun and stars as one.
Losing a painting, a novel, or beauty and youth; nothing.
But losing a heart and your trust, I can never fix.
Some(thing)one lost is a house divided.
An ocean. A river. A valley. All tossed
and tweaked and thrown away into the wastebasket of things.
Yes, some(thing)one lost and never
A morning gained. Sighs the faith away.