But then again, too few to mention....
The prompt of the day was regret. The thing is, most of my regrets, I've moved passed. I am sorry about some things and sad about others, but no real regrets anymore, per se. Besides, I've never been great about writing introspective poems. I manage an occasional one, but I don't really enjoy the challenge. So, when I woke up before the birds this morning, (because insomnia we have always with us) and the first couple popped into my head (I have not had port and cake in some considerable time) I decided that I was writing a somewhat humourous poem instead:
The Things an Insomniac Thinks About
I regret that I did not take
That glass of port with chocolate cake.
That I have never had the chance
To learn just how ‘The Swords’ is danced,
Nor have I quite yet got enough
Old English for reading ‘Beowulf’.
And Morse Code I still don’t know
(I started learning years ago.)
That I don’t own a pair of spats,
A swordstick cane, or a quizzing glass,
That my car has died… again,
And I’m running low on Jameson.
That I cannot name that gleeful bird,
Whose reveille song I overheard
(At 5 am – the little creep)
..I most regret my lack sleep…