The Rubbish Heap

007

 

At one time I so dreaded

Growing old, fearing regrets

Dumped in a dark rubbish mound

At my memory’s back door.

 

Would I regret choices made,

Opportunities lost,

Journeys not yet taken,

And friendships forsaken?

 

But now, after the pain

Of fifty years,

Some joys, some tears,

It seems there is some gain.

 

What’s outside I won’t deny,

But the dark heap seems to have

Become a small green hillock

Of soft grass where children play,

My wife delights in the sun,

And friends long known or new made

Bury things of no more use.

 

I guess it is a little

Untidy, but it doesn’t

Seem to smell much any more

And it does give me something

To look at from my back door.

© Johan Rich 2009

Image – Di Wilson

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