Too Late

I feel like an idiot, standing here,
conversing with a rock.
Why I should have come
makes no sense, seems pointless,
cruel even. Heck, I didn’t come
when they planted you here,
haven’t been these twenty years since,
shouldn’t be here now. Amends.
Charlie’s full of himself and the title.
I don’t need to make amends.
You screwed me around as much
as I did you. Well, maybe I railed
about your leaving me, abandonment.
I believed it then, not much now.
I needed you. I’d have told you that,
had I known then what I’ve learned.
But I didn’t. I skipped out
on the funeral. I shouldn’t have.
Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it,
didn’t hate you, really don’t now.
I’m so sorry. It’s too late for you,
you can’t hear. But I needed to know
what I’d say.