i regret the days that passed
the years that flown.
when inspirations come and cast
i let them blown.

i regret the days i did not write,
the things my eyes have seen.
tales and poems that could have been,
passed i let them all out my sight.

i regret the times i remember when,
i did not care to hold a pen.
to tell and write down what i can,
before my fantasies come to end.

i regret to forget, i really do,
a writer in me whose next to you
may not be so good but i always knew
i’m very much in love so dearly, too.

CSantaMaria