Too Late
Too Late
Now that you’re gone, I see more clearly:
I’m too late in what I did and didn’t do.
I treated you—I achingly see—cavalierly.
My acts of kindness were empty and few.
Now that you’re gone, I see more acutely
How often my needs brushed yours aside.
And how you selflessly took that mutely
Allowing me to keep my precious pride.
Now that you’re gone, I see more starkly
The hurtful ways I didn’t return your love.
I oft responded indifferently, even darkly.
But your manner was the peace of a dove.
Now that you’re gone, I see more ruefully
The traits that made me unworthy of you.
It is right that I face my failings truthfully:
It will be the only justice you ever knew.
Lord, how I wish you were here once more.
Recompense I would make for all the wrong.
By deed I would treasure you to your core.
In faith I wonder, will I have to wait long?
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