He dithered too long at crossroads of his heart
Unsure what to speak, irresolute where to start
While his love stood waiting, tender yet so bold
He watched its fleeting light turn pale and cold.
It’s too late to realize what silence had concealed
Some wounds are born of truths, never revealed
A wavering heart might lose what once was near
To harvest regret forever from a momentary fear.
He neither blamed the soul which walked away
Nor ever cursed hands of fate for what they say
Instead, he turned the reckoning inward forever
And crowned remorse to be his lifelong peer.
Sweet rewards of his strivings, he let them pass
As though joy itself was made of the fragile glass
For how could he absolve himself of own delay
When one mute response had changed the way?
What we sow in life, the seasons make us reap—
Few seeds bear bloom; few pierce soul too deep
And love, when silence locks the ultimate door
Sadly, it yields no harvest but ache of nevermore.
Yet possibly the most ruthless truth of love is this
Not every lost love was preordained to be bliss
Some loves are wrecked, not for being wrong
But that the heart delayed its response far too long.
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