Garden of Regret

I walked into my yard today, dismayed,

tangled weeds grew wild, a bold charade.

Once vibrant blooms surrendered to thorns,

as if I’d left them to weather all storms.

The once soft soil now cracked and dry,

a testament to neglect, I can’t deny.

The sun shines fiercely on the brown leaves,

I catch my breath; I can hardly believe—

the flowers that bloomed bright once, long gone,

forgotten petals whisper of what’s wrong.

Among the chaos, shadows intertwine,

my hands run through the mess, the wild vine—

a secret garden, now a sprawling wreck,

both trapped in time and a life unchecked.

I kneel, try to grasp the lost, the brave,

but regret settles heavy, an unruly wave.