~ O’ Lost One! ~

~ O’ Lost One! ~

With the neat Sun,

Sans any spilling light, sinking deeper,

In its comfy bountifully crimson hem,

When the wait has generously kissed me poison,

Just below the neckline,

Where I used to succinctly wear thy glassy wings …

I’m setting out, yet again,

To search for thee,

The biggest, prettiest, glinting chunk of me,

That has gone missing,

Since, I’d say, forty wallowing fortnights …

And, for being an absolute, dissolute,

Narcissus seed,

Somehow … indirectly … vaguely

I could always sense it,

Even without drawing (scrawling) a family tree,

With an extra-light tip pencil,

Perhaps a fruit-skinned toy-akin eraser, too …

And, though not dismounting the modesty,

To lean against the deserted wall (page),

Never redoing the snappy (in tiff) branches,

Convincingly … I, too, am fond of my pond image!

Thence … so much that I love every bit of mine,

It’s critical thou shalt see, to find myself,

I must find thee,

Hence, tell me, O’ Lost One …

Where art thou?