Way Past Late

Poem spawned from a thought I had when reading.

Photo by Andy Beales on Unsplash

I always find that the past
is never fashionably late 
but undesirably early,
even when we tell it 
the wrong time
to meet up,
but only
at its worst.
Without a glance
at itself in the mirror
or change into any clothes
free of wrinkles, but always with
that atmosphere of shame and regret.