My earring, my children as children, my little feet bare on the earth.
I have lost innocence, naivety, brashness, bravado.
I have lost childhood, teenage years, engaged to be married, innocent abroad, career, places, people.
Car-keys, house-keys, books, handkerchiefs. Lost, lost.
My sister, mother, father, grandmothers, aunt, known and lost.
Grandfathers known only by repute, lost too.
I have lost agility – fingers stumble over the piano keys, limbs will not carry me forward.
I cannot run, cannot run along the beach. I jerk and falter.
This is not me this swerving person who stops, walks again, collapses on the sand. Yet can swim.
Lovers lost. Never regained as lovers. Friends again or not even friends.
Lost allows for found. Loss of job does not mean loss of skill or passion.
Lost allows space for finding, finding connections, making a difference.
My losts transform when writing these memoirs
Capturing what I had at one time, a moment of possession.