Friday, August 17, 2007


Regret is the bereaved cousin of hope,
With feathers both gray and dreary.
It is never what you hold,
But always what you lack.
It is
... the job you left
... the choice you didn't take
... the woman you didn't kiss
... the risk you would not face
... the opportunity you missed
It is the once-in-a-lifetime that will never come again.

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