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Remorse

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.

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