Regret by Keiron Tonge
Sitting here in the rain on your doorstep.
Holding a bunch of broken roses.
No hat to keep the rain from my head.
Nothing to protect me from the problems this poses.
The water stains my suit like the tears do my face.
And my eyes see nothing in front of me. They’re glass.
There is nothing to see in this feeling.
Not the cracked stone path or the grass.
The lights in the windows behind me are switched off.
There’s nobody there right now.
I question my fears and motives.
And simply ask the question “how”.
Cars rush passed the terraces,
spraying water on the street.
Still I sit there on your step.
The rain soaking my feet.
Nothing left to hold onto but the ground below me.
And the misplaced feelings of regret.
The feeling of wonderment left behind.
I’m not able to forget.
I’m just waiting for you to come home.
So you can lift me off the floor.
We can share a friends embrace.
And perhaps go through the door.
Things that lie in the rain and the dust should never be forgotten…