Once a book that belonged to me
I searched in my room,
And I searched out.
It was gone, nowhere to be found.
I never saw my book again,
Until I found it after a few months,
Under my bed.
I could have sworn,
That was the first place where I looked.
As I flipped through the pages,
I realized someone has it read,
And was kind enough to have it left.
Just under my bed.
It was never the same book again.
Someone found me when I was lost too.
I did not ask to be found, but Someone did.
I belonged to that someone.
Then the someone left.
Would I ever truly belong to someone else?