Might-Have-Beens (Poetry)

An old bulb in a dusty pot
with a dried-out clump of earth
quite suddenly threw up a spear —
green witness to rebirth

I nurtured it — gave liquid feed
surprised to find it there
like one last hope it pushed its way
as though the chance seemed fair

Then just as fast it shrivelled back
like frost had chilled the air
its Spring proved false and killed small hope
beyond pale sun’s repair

***

An old love quietly boxed away
might sometimes throw a spark
and warm a long-lost memory
that lingers in the dark

It flares awhile — revives its flame
as proof of passion spent
in younger days — but too late now
to wonder where it went

The embers glow on restless nights
a pang stirs hot and deep
it seres the heart with might-have-beens
dies back resigned to sleep