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Allison Carpenter Poem
Mist fell lightly that February day.
A blend of sad and serene.
The colorless view from the window — the gray:
what Regret must look like, if seen.
“I know everybody,” Regret said to me,
as he stopped at the window to stare.
“Their bad decisions, their bitter derision,
their cries that life was not fair.”
Regret said that he was alive in the mist,
that he visits most people in gray:
“I sit with millions on dark cloudy days,
and I never ask if I may.”
“I come to haunt your heart,” he whispered —
his gaze, from the mist to me.
“To mourn each loss, to count the cost
of all the locked safes with no key.”
Down came the mist, like sorrow it fell,
the eyes of Regret piercing me.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry,” I cried.
But Regret had no empathy.
Regret stood up, pushed his chair in,
His parting words like a spear:
“I have to go now, to see everyone else,
before the mist and the gray disappear.”
Copyright © Allison Carpenter | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Allison Carpenter Poem
I believed in you.
I walked by your side.
So, sadness and sorrow stabbed and stung
the day that the old dream died.
That path we took was beautiful;
You know, that road we both knew:
That lovely lane lined with lilies and hope,
where I dreamed that great dream with you.
I believed in you.
It seemed that the whole world did too.
Months turned to years, years to delight,
as I happily strolled there with you.
But I glanced down on the path one day,
And shock pierced my soul like a knife;
The lilies were limp, listless before me:
That once-vibrant dream had no life.
But I still believed in you.
Didn’t you believe in you, too?
That lane we once loved grew harder to hike,
As I started to see what was true:
Somehow as we paved that path,
the dream had clouded my eyes;
For you had stopped walking beside me one day,
And I did not realize.
For I still believed in you.
Oh how I wanted the dream to come true:
To witness with awe where that pathway would lead,
That long luring lane with the view.
But the lane grew lonely, lacking its life,
Something I tried to deny.
For I still believed in you,
Though that sweet old dream had to die.
I heard you now journey where junipers grow,
A place where the rain clouds are few.
I hope you don’t mind if I stroll with you there,
For I still believe in you.
Copyright © Allison Carpenter | Year Posted 2024
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