Fay Slimm.

Regret

 

Regret.

 

Wind had risen,

gusts of near-winter slapped her cold face.

 

Pregnant grey clouds

fat as fresh dripping rolled in from the sea.

 

Then rents appeared 

and an eyeing sun forewarned her again.

 

She decided 

that hiding in shadows fostered deceit.

 

So mind set straight

her run-away shoes trod homeward to him.

 

Grass looks greener

but fence guilt with regret and duty  wins.