Regrets Ache Like Illness

I lose a little sleep each night

At first or in the morning hours

Replaying the past in pictures

In the frame of the present.

To change an action lost to time

A word, or a look, right there

Reliving the joys and sorrows too

To define the turning point.

Regrets ache like illness

But I never knew

That time would run out for us

And the conversations stop.

I have forgiven all, in blood

And pray you do the same

Never stopped the loving though

Of you, by any name.