the art of losing

The mister and I spent part of the night choosing a reading for the wedding. In an effort not to exclude anything after the 1st century CE, I pulled out my old Norton Anthology from my college days. I happened upon one of my favorites which I think I first read in high school, and which, many years later, the miso sent to me in an email. And isn't it just lovely to find someone who sends you poetry in an email? We won't be using it in the wedding but I did think it worth sharing:

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
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.