A Poem Written in Six Minutes

The St. George

I think a lot of home,

And a lot about the past,

I contemplate what I’ll do,

What things that I know now

will last.

My mind runs miles

Around sodden, weary tracks.

What ifs, what mays, forgotten smiles

And even if I could go back,

What of that?

I have nothing to regret, other than the fact

That time and thought play tricks upon us all.

(I can’t help that, but regret it just the same)

I think a lot of home, and past

And know of course that what is gone is gone,

But keep thinking anyway.

 

 

 

 

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