A poem:

weary,
reclining at day's end.
the darkening sky breathes heavily upon my soul -
'I know your ache.'
light slips through one's fingers with
every thought, word, deed that is
tainted by regret.
gently,
a dove glides through my mind
resting now upon my heart.
‘failure - I consider not of what you sigh.
my love for you would increase by nought
were you perfect nigh.’