Regret. Anger, Sorrow.
Bedfellows I do not choose
Yet they come upon me like
Constant Companions
Hiding for a season, then
Popping their ugly heads up again
When I least expect their arrival
Will I choose Life, Calm, Joy?
As I continue my journey and
Theirs comes to an end
Or, will I ignore, pretend
I am okay—hoping
Regret. Anger, Sorrow
Ride away on the next wave?
Not to surface for another season