Lost and found

Walking in the wild wet woods today, I stumbled across flowers lying abandoned under a bramble thicket; tossed and tumbled as if thrown aside uncaringly. I couldn't help but wonder whether  they had, in reality, been lain gently in fond memory of love and loss, before being scattered by the wind; or wilfully cast away as a deliberate act of disdain.
There is something infinitely sad that clings to abandoned objects; an air of defeat that echoes around them. The battered shoe lying all forlorn in the gutter, the small pink mitten snagged on a thin branch, the coat hanging over the back of lonely park bench; they all have secrets to whisper into the ear of the curious passer by should they care to listen, tales of a time when they were cherished, desired and cared for.
Like many others, I have at times felt cast aside, lost, battered and bewildered at life's seemingly harsh twists and turns. Yet for every loss there has been a gain, a realisation or rediscovery to balance the  sadness and disappointment. This is, after all ,the true essence of living.