I weep for the paths I dismissed away
To long for futures in bright array
In laughter and youth I blundered past
Those halcyon days forever last

I mourn the boy who stared in delight
Believed every dream was his by right
Who dazzled eyes at every crest
For the want was all to do the rest

I wished to be a composer of wit
To fashion threads—astutely knit
Then weave new muse from firm’ment thrum
And tacked in place by patterned drum

A poet once too, in shaded glen
Each word arrives through ephem’ral ken
By ink and page and meter strung
The songs of life still yet unsung

Instead I drifted the ambling stream
I passed the docks, shores and dreams
No paddle set against patient wend
Eager for glory just beyond each bend

I watched my peers find fortune and love
I prayed to the heavens up above
“Oh what is the proper course for me?
My life has become only all that I see”

And then I sat up in panic and fright
The world now cast in softer light
The harbors and paths of gent’ler clime
Now crumbled away by the decay of time

I set to my paddle with arms failing strength
To see my errs and corrections at length
Too far I had drifted from comforts hearthglow
And wailed and gnashed at the inexorable flow

I clung to my paddle and sought an escape
I thought I could cheat against this ignoble fate
I could lengthen the days and delay my curse
To live just a bit more in each protracted verse

But…

I am a composer of wit
Brevity held, nobility unquit
Shaded glen, naught but my eyes
And seek the peace in my demise

The river cools, opportunities mist
Knuckles split and shoulders twist
I sing my song before I fade
And I become the river shade

Fear not, dear trav’ler debating
There may be glory waiting
Just beyond the bend
This journey’s not at end

Be still my love, do not lament
So my time can be well spent

I wish only
for
a memory
a time whence I did shine
That I may carry into the dark
a moment
once
was mine