Remorse is an acquired feeling only cultivated by years
The young have no idea that time will one day grab their untarnished souls and twist hard
Enough to cause a momentary pause, a possible reflection, or tears.
Squeezing the moment like a fresh lemon for today’s sangria served up cold, tasty and tweaked.
Judging from the span of years between the act and remorse,
Time piles high the feeling that once was a spurious twinge of tart, unswallowed seeds
And germinates a forest of cooled summer days.
To undo, impossible. To forget, improbable. To forgive, immense.