Tears of Regret

I came too late,
waited too long
now I hold you as dust in my hand
release you to the whispering wind,
in the fields you loved,

If but the summer sun
had come to kiss our Valley,
and warm the rocky paths we walked,
then the chill that killed your bones
would have waited,

but the one who knew you ,
called cold of night,
whispering old and easy,

his voice grew louder ,
the winter long and cold his seal,
he took your spark,
and cast it to the night sky,

I see it every morning,
through tears of regret.

forgive me love,
I came too late

About This Poem

Last Few Words: I wrote this after a friend returned to a cold Nrth Ireland, to his sick x wife, whom he was to get back with. the situation gave me the idea, "just a short notation , nothing special"

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: sydney,Australia, AUS

Comments

powerful

but, for more impact, as the reader is caused to pause at the end of a stanza, I suggest you divide this

my suggestions would be to start new stanzas at lines
‘If but the summer sun’
‘but the one who knew you called’
‘I see it every morning'

and
‘but the one who knew you called’
you used ‘but’ in the previous paragraph, and I love the way the sentence runs there – I think you need to work this one here out somehow, I’d really just drop the ‘but’ – it’s not really needed)

a very powerful write believe
love judy
xxx

Once again Judy, many thanks

Once again Judy, many thanks, you are right off course'
and I have made some changes, Thanks for your comment

Evocative

"he took your spark,
and cast it to the night sky,"

I like all this poem, am made wistful and aware in it, the cold touches.
Did you love this friend? I don't fully understand why the tears.

You gave me an atmosphere that will linger with me.

Ann of Norway.

Thanks

Thanks Ann
No one knows but God, when or lease runs out, As I said The old song Dany Boy was in my mind when I penned these words, sad word we dont really want to read, But Life is Tragic,
Old age makes Love even more precious
and guilt even more condemning,
Thanks for your comments on my works of the past and this one,,,,appreciate