I have found myself searching for
things I thought I had lost;
keys that sit by the entry,
papers that sit in the tray,
letter arriving in the mail (one day soon).
Hopefully.
Around my world
of dog filled garages, cars, and grades
these things had not been lost for some time,
but I had been searching
and had not found that they were as always.
Always.
They sit patiently (multiplying) as I type letters
incoherently;
chat with friends in faraway lands
(or myself and sometimes, God);
sip tea hotly steaming with milk and vanilla
Into something more beautiful than satisfaction;
think about the china I inherited and have yet to use
more than once (maybe Thanksgiving tea).
They are still there
waiting for me to see them
and stop
searching, and be satisfied.
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