Hushed undertones breathed over the telephone:
"Oh God, I'm so sorry".
Outside, the scurrying of leaves and the stirring
of rain plays a suitable backdrop to my heart
felt charade.
The self-reproach of sadness.
And I realise - nothing I say can be enough
to atone to myself for never having been in touch
when I didn't realise
you needed me.
And you no longer do.
Because nothing I say can make up
for what has happened
and what I have not done.