Into the glass I look and see
A figure of half century life
A reflection of an older me
Eyes showing the child I used to be
As they reside amongst a face of crumpled skin
That still has traces of a younger beauty

Wisdom is like the teeth grown over years
And I carry the wounds of choices made
I can’t now regret and shed crocodile tears
I will live with the mistakes, and have no fears
Of retribution when I reach the end
Though they will be no horns or angel cheers

No, I can’t change what is to be
But if I could step through the glass
Take the hand of the younger me
Show her another way, make her see
One mistake can put steps on a road
To life lived lonely, just me, not we.

And in the end sometimes
We do not forget
The bridges that we never crossed
To the homes, we never lived

You do not always lose that which you hold
At times you never held it yet there it goes
In our memory, it stays
Though only as a dream
And in the end sometimes
Life is just as hard as it seems

THE ART OF PROCRASTINATION

I have often wondered, and I have often thought,
That I have often delayed without there being any cause.
I often over think and I often codgitate,
Procrastinating over my procrastinations of the day.

Over thinking needlessly, postponed imagined pain.
Second guessing everything. Oh why must I delay?
I know that it's important so why do I delay?
I know that it's my only chance.
Hold on... I'm running away.

And what will happen if I fail?
Oh and what will people think?
And what if I have got it wrong?
... Maybe I'll rethink.

The point of all this pondering, is to try to tell myself
To never let a moment pass without giving me a chance.

"So what!" If people laugh.
"So what!" If I lay dashed.
At least I'll know within myself that I've given me a chance.

For now I'll live on with regret, every day,
And think about those who seem so far away.
What would have happened & where would I be?
Oh if only I'd...

If only indeed.

John Flanagan 21/11/2016