Passing Regret Poem by Christopher Thor Britt

Dead winds blow through the
Parlor door
Silently she screams

No one to hear her
Desperate cry
She waits, hopes, and dreams

A sin it seems to
Want for more
Than stone, wood and brass

Resolved, she watches
The sun die
Through the old stained glass

Trapped in unselfish
Devotion
Both, the cage and key

Lingering in what
Might have been
Pain comes easily

Vows uttered with good
Intention
A velvet-lined snare

She, with rosary
In her hand
Buries it in prayer