In Hindsight’s Ache
Eroded we become,
like stone upon a seashore,
once stoic in stance and present,
now lost within the sands;
and I ponder the weathering,
the loss of form and will,
as strewn as I am across the sand,
I can but remain me, still.
And facets of me connect,
know of when I was whole,
and in age a calm acceptance,
for life has taken a toll;
yet wise my strewn mind has become,
a subtotal of who I am,
and in expression I am fluent,
my presence I no longer command.
Yet I care not,
of my youth’s ego-driven will,
it washed away long ago,
by waves and love instilled;
for I am at peace with me,
care less of what others think,
as I am where I should be,
eyes vigilant, but not a blink.
How time exacts this numbing hold,
where worries just seem to wane,
thoughts now for beauty’s sake,
not for petty qualms betrayed;
and I watch youth in fractious panic,
over pointless fears and woes,
relenting all that’s important,
for their momentary throws.
I remember, I was the same,
so lost yet so vibrant in younger years,
open as a book yet seeing nothing,
and drowning in my tears;
as in hindsight I do squirm,
all the opportunities lost,
but now I see the necessity,
those lessons out of cost.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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Yes, you are where you should be, Tony. And I am so glad you are who your are. This is nicely penned verse on hindsights and who you have become. Great work on the piece and yourself.
Thank you Phyllis, your kindness always appreciated my friend. cheers!