Regret

We loved when young,

We loved, my dear, how much we loved

No one can tell – and yet

We fell apart – the hand of fate

Saw fit to stay, to separate;

You went your way – seemed not to care,

You even scoffed at my despair –

     Do you regret?

Tonight I’m counting o’er the years

Which have not been without their tears

But since I saw you yester night

With him, the wreck of your delight,

     Do I regret?

May 12, ‘99

B. Globe

May 12, ‘99