In twilight's hush, where shadows play,
Two specters lurk, to steal the day.
Regret, a phantom, from yesterday's night,
Whispers "what ifs" with a haunting light.

Worry, a wraith, from tomorrow's unknown,
Breathes "what may be" with a mournful moan.
Together they creep, with stealthy pace,
To snatch the present's fleeting, sacred space.

Happiness, a flame, that flickers bright,
Is extinguished by their dark, relentless night.