“My Only Regret” by Pam Gibbs

Is that I did not meet you first
did not know what I know now–
but you were not you then and
I certainly was not me.

It probably wouldn’t be like this:
gratitude for a glass of cold water,
herbs from the garden, a caress,
kind words, laughter in the night.

My sad poems are leaving me
although a few still linger.
Will today mellow into words
that echo what we wish for today?

-Pam Gibbs

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