Being young is a curse.
Not knowing that being old
Is sometimes worse.


We think our watches time will keep.
Never knowing we lose it
In our sleep.


We make plans for the years ahead.
Planning every minute carefully,
Until we're dead.


The wedding we plan at age sixteen,
The groom, the cake, the honeymoon
Will change a lot, in-between.


We even know our baby's names
How they'll look, and act....
Even choose their favorite games.


As we age, our life goes faster.
Our plans and our dreams
Can become disaster.


But looking back at how it's been
Comparing then to what really happened
We look upon the scene.


The choices were not always bad,
Some were even good.
The choices that we had.


"If I knew then what I know now."
How many times we said it?
To fate we slowly bow.


I relish all of my mistakes!
And no "Do Over" will I ask.
I treasure every day that breaks.



By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

Painting by Swampetta.






Watch these pages for more poems by Swampetta.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.


Distant Voices

Fickle March

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

March Roared In Like A Wimp

Procrastination

Change

Ode To A Japanese Garden

Thank Heaven For Little Girls


And.......for many others, click the index image.



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