the art of finding things
each morning i unfold
to find my beautiful sight
sun dripping in
shaping the contours and
watery love
next to me, still finding in his dreams.
all days are made of
losing and finding
and losing again.
i lose my taste for sweet
french pressed coffee,
find alert, awake, aware
footsteps, doorsteps
in my breath.
i find that too.
my sips of air smooth gasps
rolling rivers
kissing my lungs
that bow with gratitude.
if i leave this
breath behind
the bowing devotees
rise and cross their arms.
they want to be found,
loved.
today i lost my keys
and found moments
found pauses
and tapping fingers
found re-runs of memories
in the recent days.
every day we lose
only to find those clock ticks
and mothball smelling laughs
and new lips to kiss
new inhales
and exhales.
every moment
we are finding
those slivers of details
sweet glimpses of the whole.
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