The Duck Pond Splash Down

In autumn’s cold where we once shared our stride,
I walk alone, with remorse as my guide.
A phone call’s echo, unsung, might have healed the tear,
Now whispers of what was, in the chill autumn air.

Time slipped by a thief in stealth,
Carrying away my promise, her emotional health.
The call not made, my silence a deep dark well,
Left her adrift, alone, a fading friendship’s shell.

Now seasons change, leaves fall, and I recall,
The simple act not taken; a moment so small.
A call unmade, yet its absence thunderously loud,
A friendship lost in silence, beneath regret’s heavy shroud.

In another life, I dial through, break the night,
With warm words that would set her plight right.
Yet in this tale, no sound did bridge our growing divide,
A bond neglected, with each day widened wide.

In the grip of October’s dreary, drizzling grey,
Sarah’s world quietly began to fray.
She waited by the phone for my call to come,
Hoping for words to hum, a comforting drum.

In the shroud of October’s deepening gloom,
Where whispers of autumn were starting to bloom,
Sarah needed a call—a touch, a tone,
A sign she wasn’t left to face her fears alone.

I let time slip, a quiet thief in the night,
Ignoring the chance to make her troubles light.
No call was made; my silence was vast,
A void where once, light and laughter were cast.

In another world, perhaps my voice broke through,
Bringing solace and smiles like we once knew.
Yet here, no call crossed the space, no bridge was made,
A bond withered in the shadows of my neglectful shade.

Now seasons shift, leaves change and fall,
And with each one, I remember the call—
The one unsung, its potential unknown,
Leaving me to wonder how her struggles had grown.

Through autumn’s embrace where once we laughed free,
I wander alone, regret company keeps with me.
Her world, perhaps unchanged, or burdened by strife,
An imagined echo of a call, that might have changed her life.