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Poetry: Missed opportunities

Making chances


I read some poetry and thought,
"My God, why didn't I think that",
and swilling later by myself,
I thought of life and where I'm at,
and where I'll be when grey or white,
and all those other questions asked,
when thinking of life paths and pain,
and pleasant places I have basked.

And there's an avenue for doubt,
I've closed, well rather closed itself,
when I passed by an easy camp,
and made a further, frozen shelf,
and when I woke the morning aft,
discovering, I made the night,
I looked into a new born day,
and saw first hand a guiding light.

It was not bronzed by wooden cask,
it did not grow in some dark loft,
it was not born upon a vine,
or in a breezy Scottish croft,
but it was spirit of myself,
and it has taken long to brew,
but oh life tastes so god damned sweet,
devoid of some old cynics view.

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Poetry: Missed opportunities

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Poetry: Missed opportunities

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