dear my lost wallet,

By Symon Ramos

lost child little

lamb

your place in this world

is

by my side

but I know you can’t help

the urges

of your soul

the impulses

of adventure

I’m but the worried

shepherd

bearing

gifts

of green

and greener pastures

yet the inner crevices

of my home

my vehicle

they

call out to you with siren songs transparent muses I own you not

you are of

the wind unconstrained makes you lovely gives you

an aura

of freedom

yet it

is that

same aura

which

prevails

in my

distress for you

I will miss you

in your travels when you are not by

my side

like a

coal miner’s wife on an endless summer day which offers

no guarantee

of his return come back to me so we can rejoice

in

the return

of a

prodigal

wallet