A sack of regrets is on my back.
I carry it like a stone.
In it are things
that might have been,
something said or not said,
a smile not returned,
a question not asked
and never answered.
A hand extended,
but not touched,
an opportunity missed.
A time lost never to be regained.
A song never sung.
A sunset not admired.
All these and much more.
I weep for this sack
of what might have beens.
This is to be emptied.
I have another
sack on my back.
In it are
my delicious memories.
I carry these
like a smile.
These are the things
that were.
The perfect whispered words of love.
The touch of a laughing voice.
Wine and roses
in the fall sunshine.
The yellow of wild mustard.
The spotlighted maker
of soul touching jazz.
The firefly bridge lights.
A book store
and a pond.
A walk and the sea.
A ride and the open arms
of the country side
And yes,
the precious kiss
I glow for this sack
of what has been.
This is to enjoy.
A third sack is for hope.
I carry these
with gentle care.
What is there
is wispy smoke.
Coffee in the morning
and newspapers to read.
Warmth and soul talk
with wine and prawns.
Music to touch the soul
An appreciation
of the ordinary.
The intertwining of souls
A companion in life is
a completion of me.
And hours and hours of talk.
This is a sack to fill.