Writing regrets

Upton Cottage, Loftus, 09/09/16

I wait for the gift that will lift

this pen to write.

I wait restlessly

thinking of times when words flowed

effortlessly

in my head.

I’ve written this next line

twice already

and each time

scribbled it out;

a crumpled page beside me.

So again, I wait,

regretfully

sad for not taking hold

of those fleeting,

now fleshless poems.

Knowing I didn’t care enough

to embrace them

and make them known.