“A Few,” a poem
I would have liked to have gotten through with few regrets, And to have walked that tightrope without any nets. Yes, I wish I could have had regrets, only a few,
But there seems to be many. I thought I’d die with you.
I wanted everything to have been perfectly sublime, Without major stops and starts, a fairly seamless rhyme, With easy deaths, no real tortures and torments along the way. Oh, idealistic me, wishing it all to be a fairly perfect day.
Let time melt away to retrieve each perfect hour, Banishing deterioration, to regain a lively power, Where few regrets leave us with many heart-warming memories, Where happiness overshadows heart-ache, I’m begging you, please.
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