Regrets

Laid down a loved one
into a grave 6 feet deep,
Only to be kept company by
cold dark earth;
while the beauty of nature resides
above, in a world undeserving of her.
Regrets of words unspoken,
lost within a selfish mind.
Speaking to his soul
in the calm sky.
Cries of sorrow, visions
of lost memories, simple things
that now mean much more.
Living trapped in a hole
deep in mind and heart.
Haunting forever,
with feelings of guilt.
Words never spoken
wanting back time
to live a moment, lost
That should have occurred
with his soul, while human.




Sandra Murdoch-Becker
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved 

King of 22nd Street

The King of 22nd Street
stands idle in the rain.
A bottle in his right hand,
a cane in the left.

Collecting money on the corner,
to buy himself a crown.
Sitting to rest on a crate,
believed to be his throne.

He screams in the night,
"I'm the King of 22nd Street,
got a problem?
You have to answer to me."

The Kingdom turns their backs on him,
some sit and stare.
Lights go out,
22nd Street is bare.

The King bows his head,
tears streaming down his face.
He's down on his luck,
with a bottle of Jack,
lost in a world of pain.





Sandra Murdoch-Becker, Copyright 1994