In the emptiness of a room,
filled with mundane things,
a man ponders
…lonely…
about the lines of his life.
He rejoices and cries
looking at every turn,
remembering the decision
of each detour he took.
In his mind, he looks at images
reminiscing each moment lived,
happy or sour,
mute or loud,
that shaped his trunk of memories
which could have been empty
without the choices he made,
the taken steps
or the footprints set.
He acknowledges every fall
that came with each rise,
all the scars left in his heart
that made his will stronger,
the twice many kind acts
that kept him going whenever lost,
and the treasured, sweeter deeds
that helped bare the wrinkles of life.
And, while he may not know
the length of the path in front of him,
the tick-tock sounds of his pocket clock
draw a smile as he thinks,
“keep walking and placing mile marks
until I wind you no more,
and worry not my dear companion,
for my path bears no regrets.”
an Inspiration Sunday poem
poetry about life span and reflection