Saturday, December 28, 2013


You speak of dreams you had as a boy.
Why not pursue them, I ask.
You have responsibilities, you say.
You'll catch up with your dreams later.

Why don't you do something for yourself
Your life is spent in work
You'll do all that someday
When you retire, later.

Then a day comes, when it is too late.
Images flash before you-
Not those of the life you lived,
But of the one you didn't.

I come visit your grave after the funeral
To talk to you after all these years.
Until I realize that you had stopped existing.
I had always thought we would catch up later...

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