I’m sorry, dear
for what you’ve lost
for what you’ve seen
for what’s been broken.
Love comes at a cost,
and you have paid too high a price, and, forgetting,
have let hope destroy you
and faith return to dust.
But everlasting to everlasting
was never a promise to last for a day.
There have been dark Fridays and cold Saturdays before,
forlorn gray nights and black dawns.
And perhaps you have forgotten:
Sunday came, even then.