The echoes hum of paths not taken,
soft as sighs the wind has spun,
whispers trace the dreams forsaken,
things undone, the race unrun.

A fleeting glance, a step unsteady,
a hand not held, a word unsaid,
a love that lingered, never ready,
a spark that burned but quickly fled.

The door half-open, never entered,
the letter lost upon the tide,
a name once spoken, now surrendered,
to silence deep and time denied.

Regret, a shadow, lingers lowly,
mourning what we failed to claim,
yet life moves on, though sad and slowly,
softly sighing just the same.