Precious Regrets
Regrets
poem by Michael R. Sears Copyright 6-18-05
I once had a beautiful set of treasures bright
That lit up my house with smiles so white
That played and got dirt on my clean tile floors
And ran in and out and slammed the doors.
But now the tiles are clean; quiet doors above
And all grown up are those kids I love
Far away from me they've gone to live
Long ago were here when I could give
But now I'm old and remember them
And their grandpa? They remember him
An old grouch who had to have it quiet
So he wouldn't miss the news's plight
That news I can't remember now
But their child faces and curly hair upon their brow
I can see as if it were today
When I should have played
I never once got down on the floor and played soldiers
With my grandson I could have been a molder
Of his life but was only a part of the strife
And cut his tender spirit like a knife
My granddaughter I also fear
Will only remember my anger's sear
And not tenderness and joy to see her near
It was truly in my heart to catch her tears
And to play horsies next to the hearth
To give her, me, down in her heart
Through these tears of regret I know
I had a life full of gifts and glow
A life full of good intentions that I could show.
But things were more important then
The work. The TV bandit. I forged a house of tin
And now I pay for my sin
Because I see clearly what I have done
I was the most important one
So I filled myself with me, man's common sin
And worst of all I see what it could have been
But time has marched on under a relentless moon
Not waiting for my good intentions to bloom
For they were planted in a garden of barren soil
Amidst my cares and wants and toil
I hope my children and grandchildren forgive my wrongs
And sing their kids and grandkids my unsung songs
And give of their mighty time, life's full attention
Not diverted by cares too unimportant to mention
So now I will leave you with some retrospective thoughts
That woke me in the wee hours of sleepless toss
Realizing every opportunity I missed was so subtly missed
And stolen from my soul and tight clenched fist
Time is slowly and subtly stolen from our lives
Hidden among our jobs, cares, desires, and strifes
We need to recognize those thieves
And burn them up with the leaves
Do not grow old like me and realize too late
After your kids, mom, dad, or spouse go out that gate
Perhaps this one poem will be of some effect
To teach you well not to neglect
If only I could move back those hands of time
And kiss their faces more and play with them every day
And touch the curls and smell those dirty feet
And walk upon that dirt they brought
And listen to that cheap toy they bought
And hear those slamming doors once more
And not always have to be annoyed
But be happy and pumped and joyed
By just their presences sweet and their rooms not so neat
And go watch ants work or a kite jerk
Or a Barbie clean her house
Or a plastic soldier fall or an imagination so tall
As to reach the sky and cast a cool shade upon a sun soaked soul!
What would I give for all of that?
Give your time, your love, your attention
If you will just hear me now and not wait
As time bandits slowly and subtly steal
using excuses and reasons and days and seasons
Until it is all gone and you have those sleepless regrets like me.
Children are like olive branches around your table
And are great assets and treasures
I realize that now!
Precious Regrets
By: Michael R. Sears
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