Down the street, at the edge of things you know, lie
possibilities you won’t explore, loves unused, friendships
 
unstarted, invitations failed. In the golden light,
years pass, with ghosts of would-be lives
 
superimposed on would-be paths,
like colored filters. What you are and what
 
you aspire to, what you’ve done or tried, all the love
you longed to share with someone who
 
didn’t notice. That day that could have blossomed,
but you were late. What didn’t happen is
 
a part of you.