The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
When I look back, way back, I sometimes think that that particular angel of light could have been my second half, if only I'd done something to show her my heart; perhaps a gesture, an exchange of friendly words, a compliment, a brush against the shoulder even. Then the saddest four words conjure up in my mind: It might have been. Is shyness, timidness, or even the thought of, what if, enough to overrule and outweigh the feeling of regret bore in,"It might have been", that'll follow us to our graves. The struggle is a complicated one, but then again, that's the price and battle of love.
Visele de azi sa devina realitate,sperantele de maine impliniri,orice cadere un pas inainte,gandul bun si fericirea sa te insoteasca mereu.La multi ani!:X:X:X:X
English
Is shyness, timidness, or even the thought of, what if, enough to overrule and outweigh the feeling of regret bore in,"It might have been", that'll follow us to our graves.
The struggle is a complicated one, but then again, that's the price and battle of love.