Regret (A poem)

I thought a lot

about regret

as the coffin lid lowered.

Things I hadn’t

done. More that I

had.

Life was a beautiful

mystery.

An understatement.

I didn’t get it then

still don’t.

Everyone wore black

because

isn’t that what people do?

I wore black too.

Conformist.

I longed for pink

or green

or yellow.

Yellow would be

nice.

The faces around me

were smudged

teardrops like rain.

Gray

and more gray

just like black.

Umbrellas everywhere.

I wondered

if they were really

alive.

It seemed fitting

the sun didn’t shine.

It was yellow

after all.

Too nice.

The satin felt cold or

maybe that was

me.

I thought a lot about

regret

as the coffin

lid

lowered.

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