Regret Grows In Darkness

Creaking floorboards, kettle sighing while the world’s asleep and dying In the darkness that is dawning grows a weed under the awning Phosphorescent weed of night makes the shadows of what might - have been with more of that or this More courage or less foolishness A perfumed spell wafts from its flowers brings blindness to what’s good of ours It lines the paths so darkly tempting to places lost through paths unending And each new route down which I skitter l find more weeds my path to litter Fresh regrets more overgrown And all from seeds that I have sown