A poem for Friday:
This place is steeped in my regret
A flimsy teabag that can no longer hold up under the hot water of my impetuousness
Exploded a thousand brown flakes of foolishness
Into a china cup, pink rosebuds rimming a creamy perfection
I have tainted with my harsh words
The bitterness of things I can’t unsay
Haunts my silence—
When I said “I’m sorry”
Did I really mean it?
When he accepted that feeble apology
Could he really have forgiven me?
Flakes of misplaced tea leaves catch in my throat
My simple apology
His generous response
Are inadequate to strain out the hurt I saw in his eyes
I would offer a thousand new cups of untarnished tea
If I could. . .
Beg a thousand apologies for my stupidity
If I could erase that pain