with a beautiful view of what's missing from it

The sun has moved on,
and the view's gone inside
- but I thank you, for all
of the good you advise

Too late,
you told me to stay

warm in the sun. Well okay,
you told me on time, but I was late
hearing you. I should have paid
more attention. Instead,

I have paid the price
of retrospect, where you told me so's dance
around my neck, like the scratchy scarf
I am bundled in.

But of course, you would never tell
me them. Those told-me-so's. For one thing, you
didn't know that I wasn't listening.

For another, by now I can see
it myself. For another thing,
you've not been disposed
to gloat, not nearly enough,
which I suppose
is nice.

Meanwhile, I am here. Back in. Too late
to go on, too far to come back,
with the heat seeping on
and my scarf flung off,
and an aching back
where I used to be.

I sit with the view
in retrospect, and warm
in the memory
of where I should
have stayed.

It's gone
all cold, there
now.

But I feel like that
could

have been delayed