by Sandra Lowen

Created on: January 05, 2010

Poetry: Harvest Time

I sowed my oats both wild and free,

I sowed them oh, so recklessly.

Now harvest brings them back to me

With frightening, cold certainty.

Life bent me double, stripped me bare.

Gone was my smiling “I-don’t-care”.

Caught when I was most unaware,

I’d make protest, but I don’t dare.

Who pays, when careless bills fall due,

When all excuses fade from view?

The penalties those acts accrue,

Consequences that grew and grew

‘Til I regretted what I’d done.

What at the time seemed so much fun,

My machinations - all undone

With no chance left to cut and run.

So now it becomes harvest time.

My peccadilloes so sublime

Will shame the heavens with my crime,

And I will pay up – every time.

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