The Stain Remains



Crisp white shirt and a coffee stain,
to my chagrin, or much disdain.
I tried not to dribble, but I did.
Again. The sun shines brightly, on
a beautiful day, and I now carry
a souvenir to remind me of
my errant ways. I tried to slow down,
attempted to change, and now must
move about wearing the residue of
my mistake. Mishaps, careless errors,
or unforeseen disruptions, don’t we all
carry around with us a shadow of
what was. Not always is it this obvious,
rarely this Instant, the stains of the past
remain, as do the costs. Only some of it
will come out in the wash.


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