Love’s lost and found

I wake to what sounds like an intruder
but once I get my bearings      I realise
it’s those big fat-bellied magpies stomping
across the roof        
                   scurrying back and forth
playing catch me if you can.    Grace to be born
like the sparrows or the lilies in the field
without a care in the world.   Not that I complain
I’m still a net consumer of oxygen

have most of my teeth and some of my wits
and I’ve learned to live each day      as though my
last.  True     love remains in the lost and found
but believe me I’m working on it.   My dazzling
days may be behind me but I just know she’s
out there somewhere perhaps hiding

                                                   in plain sight

John Lyons

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