Poetry

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He walked slowly down the dusty road.
Burdened with his heavy load.

He thought back to a simpler time.
When his pocket had hardly a dime.

A time when “Sweet Hour of Prayer” was more than a song.
A time when there was more right than wrong.

Of lazy summer days and peaceful nights
Baseball games, swimming holes and flying kites.

Cotton candy, ice cream cones, fresh squeezed lemon-aid.
Sounds of the county fair, the excitement of a parade.

The gentle smile of his mother as she tucked him in bed.
The love of his father, shown more often than said.

He reflected back on the beauty of his young bride.
At the birth of his son, he swelled with joy and pride.

Where had the time gone?
He felt lost and alone staring at the headstone.

Now he was left only with memories and what ifs?

What if he worked less and played more
What if he cared more about the game and less about the score
What if he spent more time and less money
What if he would have savored the sweetness of the honey
What if he would have made that call or wrote that letter
What if he would have been the giver instead of the debtor

As tears on his face began to stream
He awoke from his dream

What ifs of yesterday
Are now replaced with opportunities of today.

Copyright 2003

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