Vagabond Ball

 You can lose the colored ball that rolls under the fence and into the weeds.

You can lose the puppy you slept with, the blanket, the bed, the parents as well.

You can lose your shoes when the roommate stretches them,

lose your virginity and barely remember it,

lose your bestie, your internship, your single room, your shine.

You can lose a husband or wife, that bastard, that bitch.

You can lose your tolerance, your keys, your court case, your kids.

You can lose yourself and wonder how in the hell.

You can lose and not be able to let it go.

You can lose your shit, or sigh and say, "oh well."

You can lose your composure when you see how far you fell.

You can lose the booze, the dope, the sex, the waste.

You can lose the name you started with and choose another one

that doesn't have the sting and shame, the stopper and the bung.

You can lose the demon and shame the devil.

You can lose who you weren't and gain who you are,

no matter how unexpected, how hard, how glorious, how far.

Your soul's the same, untouched after all,

waiting in the weeds with the vagabond ball.

_____

my attempt at "a little repetition" for dverse.