Flores Raras Page #5

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through your alcoholism.

The word through, implying an

emergence on the other side,

might be a tad premature.

Elizabeth, if you come back,

she'll probably

get a little better.

But if you leave,

she'll crash again -

only worse.

And then it will be your fault.

She was here

Yes.

And you didn't even tell me!

The doctor wouldn't allow it.

Hello.

Hi, Cookie.

Lota...

How are you

Much better, thank you.

I want to come and see you.

Are you...

Are you well enough to travel

Of course I am.

I...I just had a little slip.

But now everything's

back the way it was.

There we go.

You should let me

carry that for you.

It's OK.

You must be thirsty.

I made some

ice tea this morning.

- Here.

- Thank you.

You...

You never answered my letters.

I never received any.

That's impossible.

I sent you dozens.

Mary...

No.

No, darling.

Not now.

Lota.

Lota.

Lota.

Lota.

Lota.

Lota!

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

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