S.I.N

It isn’t the thing you do;
It’s the thing you leave undone,
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At the setting of the sun.

The tender word forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you might have sent,
Are your haunting ghosts tonight.

The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother’s way,
The bit of heartfelt counsel
You were hurried too much to say
©Mwangi Njoroge.

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