REGRETS ONLY by Matt Sinovic

You are invited.

To seek a sky soaked in color,

before the sun decides to rise,

with lavender and melon spilling

over sleepy shingles.

To let cool air greet your skin,

lofting you forward.

Before the day becomes warm,

and long, and full.

To breathe in seared toast,

And strawberries, sun-warmed.

To taste jam left on your thumb,

its story too sweet to be told just once.

To step out, bare toes dug in,

curling down, rooting for this day.

To watch bees looping like drunks,

composing poems in their path.

To let leaves whisper to you,

to let robins remind you,

to let dew bead between your toes,

beseeching you to stay.

To hear children shriek

with shameless joy.

To listen as their feet slap pavement

like drums you once danced to

without thinking.

To feel the air thicken

with cut blades of grass,

charcoal, laughter,

and clinking glass.

To watch the sun climb

and let the day swell.

To lie still for a while, eyes closed,

house creaking, cicadas singing.

Like it’s always been summer.

To sip lemonade too tart,

and let watermelon run

down your chin,

without wiping it.

Not yet.

To find the hose,

and run through it.

Whooping and wild, until you forget

who you’re pretending to be.

To watch shadows stretch

as sunlight turns liquid.

Gold at the edges.

Soft on your face.

To hear familiar voices rise,

blanketing, comforting,

carrying you through the dark,

while the moon listens in.

To watch for fireflies,

blinking in the dusk.

To catch one, just one.

And hold it long enough to wonder.

To open your hand,

and set yourself free.

Matt Sinovic is a writer and poet who strives to create an immersive and sensory-rich experience for each reader. He is an avid collector of partially read books and unanswered text messages. He lives with his family in Urbandale, Iowa.