Lately
I’ve been misplacing myself.
I check pockets
but they’re empty.
Under couch cushions,
on bedside tables,
in the car.
Nothing.
I’m lost.
Panic creeps in.
Maybe no one will notice.
Then I remember:
I am found in you.
I will
never
be lost.
**************************************
Over at d’Verse, De challenges us to pen a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title), including some literal form of the word place. Come play! 😊