Missing

An original poem.

Missing

Camélia Marianne

A canary bird got lost;
the missing sign claims
by the bus station.
I think of all the things ever lost.
For God’s sake.

I hope the yellow bird
magically finds its way to me
so I can dial the number.
I hope someone 
dials my number, but who does?
Everyone but her,
and whoever found everything I've lost.

The air smells like clay and
a hint of spring and absence,
and like I should have done things differently. 
I shouldn’t have lost the claddagh ring
or the girl, or myself, 
but I did and people never 
give back what they find.

But if I did
and next time I do,
I will give all of it back
without expecting anything 
in return 
except maybe that silver lining,
I mean, jewel, 
I mean, her.