Poems ✍️

'Who was listening
when I apologised
for my life? '

I jotted that down
in a moment of regret
over the wasted things
of life, that is, my life..

and thought, that
sounds a bit like dialogue
or rather monologue to audience
stage or stalls
in Chekhov

so if no-one was listening
well, that's that

but suppose that 'everything'
was listening, and made
changes so subtle that
they'll go unnoticed except
that I find I have
nothing to apologise for
even to myself