SUCH REGRET

There was never so gentle a blizzard as the storm of blossom petals that softly swirled about my head and kissed the daffodils, the grass and path before dancing into the air again and then to lie, little discs of white on everything around.
Startling in freshly-painted greens were the fields and hills and trees, and a blackbird sang on a chimney top against a cloudless sky.
So why, from all this loveliness did I look away and cry?
Why, when I could have held you did I turn and walk away.
Instead of saying "I love you", why did I say "Goodbye"?