What matters the gray of day

for he is gone

and I linger.


All is as foretold.

(Do you regret your words, Father?)


Time there was to reflect.


But why waste those happy

days with thoughts of

this sorrow?

Long and hard these

seasons of winter.

Never again

will there be a springtime's bloom

as before.


Regets?

Shall I poison the happiness I held

with such empty words?

Hope I carried

like a cup overflowing...

the promise that

carried my love home.


I will not regret!


The world is changing

it will lead me

to the end of this grief.


There is still hope.

- Lindar7