Letter from Remorse
Early in the morning, reading a letter, I sat thinking soon after,
A sweet and sincere friend I was fond, though short in green resource,
Creativity captured my conscious self— could it be he, my true love?
He never said, nor did I, but did he know, did he feel, did he lie?
Then it was too late— before I left, he told me nothing but goodnight.
Lost to time, with such remorse.
Late in the evening, reading a letter, I stood dreaming soon after,
Memories of faces and places, one in bold, from bond and force.
She was the one who would withstand the test of time; but I never told.
Till another time I'll tell, I told myself, to tell thee how I felt,
Then she left— that one special night— I told her nothing but goodnight.
Lost to time, with such remorse.
By candlelight we congregated, short periods we were separated,
We talked about mistakes and goals to take, always forgetting the source.
Found by destiny, or astray by fate, couples are matched or patched,
The distance between us, never bridged by pen and paper until this day,
Long length of time laid between this letter and my sad departure,
T'was too late, to change course.
Hurts my heart that knew her so well, she had a head and a heart,
She would smile softly when it was sad, keen to my melancholy mood,
Can it be that I let her go, let her go, without letting her know—
That there is one who truly thought of the time together was love—
Had I procrastinated so long that I feared to tell the truth to thee?
Deep in thought, why that course?
I wished that he knew my heart is vacant, what was once confident,
A parallel to my fantasy of true love, the difference in course:
The chance we had was gone, melted away as the snow does before a school day.
Forever grasping onto the souvenirs collected, no more expected,
Closing the letter, consider the better, but no change in course.
Lost the love, full of remorse
Leaning so lightly on a wall, looking at stars gleaming so brightly,
Closing the letter, consider the better, the difference in course:
Pondering the past, pondering the past that is cast in timeless stone,
Be it better, be it not, the never knowing rules the train of thought,
May it abide as fallacy or fact— to this time and hence forward— a pact;
Tell in time, then no remorse.
inspired by television series "picket fences"
april 1996
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copyright © 1997 by david lim.
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