The Regrets of Tomorrow

The lonely estate
With short grass and long winds
Lives with three dogs
Dry to their own muggings
Retired from the trauma of memoir
And conceded to the domesticity
Of neo-dormant restraints
Tucked into a bed in the bathtub
Where all the sounds go
To eliminate time and fear
And a redundant policy of misbelief
Today we find courage
To face the regrets of tomorrow