Rediscovered Writing

Terminal

Too late, too late for weeping or regret,
Too late to set my sail for distant lands,
Too late to kiss the loves I haven’t met–
My liquid days have trickled through my hands.
Too late, too late to shape a future’s plan,
Too late to lie adrift and at my ease-­
Tomorrow has a limit to its span;
The future’s lost its possibilities.
Too late, new love I’ve just begun to know,
To ever feel again its sweeet surprise;
Too late to see again that special glow
Of timid expectation in your eyes.
So say goodbye, my last, best love, adieu:
The end is here–today I marry you.

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