in a winter market (3)

As the night wound down, 
I realized, that she 
Was enjoying the safeness, 
But I, 
I felt my resolve slipping, 
So it seemed best to say 
Good night. 

I know things could have 
Gone another way; 
I know, because 
She told me later. 
But it seemed right 
To let go. 

I've been told what it is 
That we men are, 
And I would be lying 
If I didn't say that 
I am very much like 
Other men. 

For that night, though, 
I did what seemed best 
For both her and me, 
And I'm pretty sure 
I was right. 
Still, it is a magical memory: 
Perhaps, most of all, 
Because it contains 
Nothing to regret

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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