Poem: Future or Not

There are those said he met the future

And those who said his future never came

There are those who regret his passing

And those who washed their hands

There are those who had drawn a line

And those who balked altogether

There are those he soothed egos

And those who never could be tamed

But in the end, what’s the diff,

If we are alone when we leave

And are greeted as we arrive

How close we are on this side

Will shadow our love on the other

Hardest thing about growing old

Is remembering the past:

The youth, the zeal, no end to time

Now it’s age, resting, and numbered days

Pushed and rolled to the end?

Or pulled and dragged through the years?

My choice or God’s, my steps ordained?

Will an award await, or an exiled eternity?

Where every your heart is,

There is the treasure,

And that’s tough to clarify

When your heart has led you a dozen ways

One would hope for a dozen treasures

Yet, the years continue to pass

And memories of past victories and success

Become a haunting, asleep or awake

No escaping the pointed finger, accusing voices

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 I’m writing to procrastinate, but it’s not getting the laundry sorted or board minutes prepared. Don’t put off…etc., but I look at the rest of the day, I still have NINE HOURS before I return to my bed. Surely during that time I’ll have the “go for it” attitude that will overcome my lack of desire on the more mundane tasks.