Regret stepp'd too softly
For me to hear the tear'd cries
Of the soul I held so dearly.
Slowly, though, it does arrive.
When sadness looms, roses offered
Foul eyes with their bugs and thorns
Scratch at bleeding sores long suffer'd;
Sweet perfume strains hearts long torn.
What can be done when sorrow,
Pounds too late upon my door,
Forbidding hope for new tomorrows,
Denying your riches to me so poor.
So, for my crime of deaf neglect,
To myself commit heartsick regret.

04/24/2011

Posted on 04/25/2011
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