Those nagging regrets
Maybe as simple as a misconstrued word
Or less graceful, poorly chosen ones...
Infatuations,
No Guts, No Glory.
Left rejected out-of-hand...
But that is made of what never came to pass.
What path Life takes
Sometimes turns
To dregs of champagne, stale and flat
We look back
And think when the sparkle fades
We set down this glass
Never to look back
It is what sometimes I see
Of friendships lost
For lack of care
That I would find me cursed
To lack the selflessness
Keep those bubbles the wine.
That is something I busy myself to be
Instead of one whose loss
Is the busy-ness of being
When so caught up by the moment
There is no time for nurturing
of life's most important Gift...
That I would always find the time
For what makes Life
And never let go
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