Time is just a burning fuse
What’s burnt is burnt is gone
The water beats the boat I’m on,
This bustle- what’s the use?

The stern is sternly, surely set,
Turned ‘round ‘till North is found
The ubiquitous Now is still somehow,
A measure of regret.

But how I wonder, weight the pain
Consider- is it wrong?
Regret is often, after all,
The fix for work in vain

I keep the future full in view,
And oft I ask ‘how long?’
I’ve much regret, but none so strong
Than time I spent on you.