High above the clouds in a starry night sky, a solitary figure sits alone on a floating island, looking down, back turned to the burning bridge behind.

I sat down to write a funny and heartwarming poem
about a box of kittens
and a stodgy businessman
and a mixup at the port authority
but instead I’m thinking about a girl
and how close her lips were that summer evening
and how the same sun sets on different people
every day of my life.

The regrets I cherish most
are the things I didn’t do.

And on the other side of the sunset
another man I will think of as myself
will face an identical struggle
to write a poem
about the courage I will or will not have,
as unknown to me today
as this poem was before the last sunset.