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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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