Too Late

Too Late Now that you’re gone, I see more clearly: I’m too late in what I did and didn’t do. I treated you—I achingly see—cavalierly. My acts of kindness were empty and few. Now that you’re gone, I see more acutely How often my needs brushed yours aside. And how you selflessly took that mutely Allowing me to keep my precious pride. Now that you’re gone, I see more starkly The hurtful ways I didn’t return your love. I oft responded indifferently, even darkly. But your manner was the peace of a dove. Now that you’re gone, I see more ruefully The traits that made me unworthy of you. It is right that I face my failings truthfully: It will be the only justice you ever knew. Lord, how I wish you were here once more. Recompense I would make for all the wrong. By deed I would treasure you to your core. In faith I wonder, will I have to wait long?