Figment of Past.
It was there,
In the middle of those joyous summers.
I saw you.
Your curly, blond and wild locks of knotted hair.
Your face smiling as you sat in the middle of a field of daisies with your creased pinafore and dirty polo shirt.
The sky was bright with few clouds that painted it's endless embrace.
There was only one thing I wanted to say to you as my eyes filled with tears of guilt, shame, and regret.
"I'm sorry."
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