Poem: Left Behind

Isn't there always something forgotten, something
lost, something gone? Praise this too,
for the blessings it brings. You will seek out
some recourse—reused paper, borrowed brush,
makeshift paint; some other—and make it work.
You will engage a new friend, beg or barter,
find a different, maybe better, way.
You will go where you didn't know you could.

                            Alice D'Alessio