cried the faltering snow
as it wept down by the bank
coronets of shining grapes
twining its flaming face

regretted, said the dying wind
who knelt in her dark pasture
who sobbed and brushed at wayside death
as it turned to curly air

so leave us if you must
o you of little faith
know that the slain will never go
even when the war claims haste

regretted, we swore
to the old river pine
as he toppled to the clamping earth
we loped sadly in a line

regretted, said the metal
as it tore into the land
and regretted said the many bodies
who choked the river grand

regretted, said the mother
who never read her damning letter
and regretted, wrote the sorry man
who rewarded such a day.
© C.S.G.