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GRAHAM CATT
Regrets
he tried not to think about
all those missed opportunities
how he'd turned his back on possibility
ruined his chances with bad decisions
or by not making decisions at all
but letting life carry him far from his dreams
he did not call them regrets
denied having any - told himself
that he was happy with life
that his marrying too early, divorcing too easily
taking the first job that came along
had all been part of some masterplan
but sometimes, late at night
alone with his thoughts
he stood before an aching moon
and a raft of feelings rose to the surface
like icebergs, they bumped against his ribcage
like splinters of bone, they caught in his throat
and he could only call them
by one name - regrets
Copyright GRAHAM CATT
(all rights reserved; To copy this poem, please contact the poet)
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