Cousin to the egret, a regret is a bird with salacious plumes
Tempting all who wander near it to shoot it and pluck it naked.
Was a bird
Extinct now, the regret lives on in the minds of those who lament
The onward march of evolution
Not I.
I lament only that which is to come.
I look forward to unbounded sufferdom.
Responsible am I.
I create my own misery
And supplement the supply of countless others
With my excess seasonal production.
If I were to tell you what came before
I’d point to growth charts, not to lore.
Invest in me and I’ll make you more.
We are good at what we are good at.
The Great Regret, like the Great Egret
Was a sight to see.
All pouffed and coiffed and french enhoifed.
I couldn’t stand it.
I shot it clean through both eyes.
The Snowy Regret, unlike the Snowy Egret
Was the boss of all the seas
Wide and wispy it multiplied me’s.
Like frozen fog, it choked the leas.
The Little Regret, I kept in a box
I fed it Chex and ginger snaps
It bit me once. I nursed my wound.
Alone it chirped, its species doomed.
Issue and tissue, like folds of batter
Melts layer on layer in doesn’t matter.
I would not miss my song
If I were fowl and dead and gone.
