The Things I Always Lose

The things I lose always find me again
like homing pigeons in tiny packages,
like boomerangs that barely miss your head
as they zoom through the air.

But the one most valuable, the thing
most cherished hasn't returned for good.
There have been glimpses and utterances
of you, from you, but you haven't returned
to me.

I wonder if I'm better off, if this
test of patience is part of growing
and learning, my personal odyssey.
You're no Odysseus, but I'm always
Telemachus.