Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door 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.

Then practice losing  f   a    r      t      h       e          r,
                        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,  v a s t e r,  some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them,
         but it wasn’t a     disaster.