The water under the bridge is long gone
but not my memory of it.
While now lost in that great sea of my past
still I can conjure up that time
and watch it flow by
again and again.
Sometimes comforting myself
with a different angle to view,
sometimes tormenting myself
wondering what I should have done.
I am what I was.
But what I was is open –
To interpretation,
To reinvention,
For forgiveness.
The choice to hope or despair.