The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Then
practice
losing
farther,
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, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love)

I shan’t have lied.
It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!)                like disaster.