I think of how much
I have let you down over the years

I think of the day
That I never came home
Just caught the bus, went elsewhere

I think of the night
That I promised to be back
And you waited to say, never again

I think of that haunted day
When I nearly died
And for a while you did not know either way

Now another Sunday passes
Yet again I break things

We laugh at the absent-minded mindfulness that comes with age
Inside I weep, I let you down; again, I’m never here on time