STILL TOO LATE

It is too late, as ever too late,
A moment of silence,
Struck dumb with inexperience,
It's over, it's gone, it is too late.

I wanted so much, too much, too late,
But never again, if again should be.
I have my doubts, but I still have my dreams.
Though dreams shatter easily.

Sometimes I wake with happy thoughts,
Of what could have been, then the truth appears,
Creating a void of sadness, no visions or hope,
Just, despair (and sadness).
It is all too late, but I do still care.

A face forms within the darkness, then changes,
Again it changes,
Morphing between the truth and a dream.
I am frozen in time,
Furiously, desperately, trying to move.
Tear's welling up beneath my eye lids; let them flow.
Tear's all I can feel; let them flow.

A vale slowly drops,
Between, my waking mind and sleeping thoughts.
Today's chores beckon. What's gone is beyond even me.
Though it lives on in my mind, it's still too late.