The Strings of Regret
Alluring breath of past, pressed against supple skin
Sending tickling petition upon the neckline
Reflection of past, seeking to entice consideration in
Yearning to know, flittering along curving spine
Revolution, a marker of compliance said
Metamorphosis of time
Spiraling staircase, mirror lined, stands ahead
Whispering stories of yesteryear
Anticipation of memory prickles a drive to move
Climbing past the entry, fear is set
Wicked hands of past transgressions live within
A visit, perhaps, unwise
The door is slammed shut; no escape to be found
Compliant steps make rise
Regret is born
Words uttered, echoes of the past, twisting in a quivering gut
Water springs from orbs over cheeks, so forlorn
Body trembling in powerlessness to alter what is already cut
The ache, a ghastly pit of sorrow
Forward seeming impossible to a crumbled form, lost tomorrow
Until the moment an Angel’s song rises in the air
Gently caressing drooped shoulders – well met
Lifting a wobbly chin to point the gaze ahead
Eyes cleansed by a truth greater than the thunder of regret
Strings of good, deeds also done, attach as puppet guides
Lifting sorrow up until a blanket of understanding is twined
Regret coloring threads woven in a multitude so designed
Time arcs in wisdom, painting over strands of sadly worn misgivings
