Unregrettable

Each day has moments that have slipped away,
Which could have been more gracious, or have been
Better commanded, better received, or may,
When thought of later, seem to usher in
A different feeling than they meant to bring.
I know these moments, and I feel them slide
Out through my fingers, almost ruining
The passage of the other times that glide
Less fraughtly past me. Yet the loss can't quell
The joy I feel so often when I see
That I'm with you, and you're with me as well,
And so each moment is spent wonderfully.
Perhaps some things aren't perfect, but I've seen
That other grass, and it is not as green.