To lost objects

If it is a drop in the ocean or a sole earring
you wonder where the next piece might be,
where the irritation spurs initially
from knowing that once missing starts
it trails without needing to access or ask for a breath
or does it start at the meeting of longing to the warmth
of the scarf buried under white snow, the ring
mislead into the playground's sandbox
these are things you cannot count on now, long gone,
not to be forgotten, like the cemented footsteps
of those who'd walked past your door
there are more serious matters, to be by yourself,
a drop in the ocean, a sole earring looking
for the pair you misplaced, somewhere- you just cannot remember.