MISSPENT YOUTH

By peter Woodgate 

If only I knew then 

what I know now,

A time before these lines 

were chiseled on my brow.

Knowledge, oh you come too late,

we can’t regress, that is our fate.

A wasted youth in many ways,

As all the minutes hours and days

turned into years of tender bliss,

Oblivious of just what I’d miss.

It was just I against the world,

my future it would be unfurled.

No thought for others, just my dream,

a common trend, so it would seem.

And when, I fear, that I will cease to be,

before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,

I will look back on errors now I see

And think, why was I so insane.

 

Copyright By Peter Woodgate