How Was I Suppose to Know
How was I suppose to know that time was not unlimited?
That the sands in my hourglass sifted through my fingers,
As I played with life, never living it as I should have.
How was I suppose to know that love was fleeting?
When that love was given time and again to the wrong people,
And never to be received back.
How was I suppose to know that looking back was a danger?
As it made me sad, depressed and ashamed in myself,
For not giving all I had to my life to save my soul.
How was I suppose to know that regrets are like knives in the heart?
Itβs too late to make those moments count,
Not only to yourself but to others.
How was I suppose to know that dreams are made to happen?
Only if you keep them in sight as you walk toward them,
Not when you forget them as you drift through life.
How was I suppose to know that all these things would make me ponder?
So I will work towards those dreams and forget about regrets.
As I have some time left and Iβm not dead yet.
Wow. What a great poem. Made me a tad melancholy though. You know, that mortality thing. Lots to think about in this one, Jackie.
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Yeah, that mortality thing is getting louder over here. π¦ Might as well make the most of the time we got.
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I like your poem, Jackie. It made me think all night. I’m hoping spring shows up in your neck of the woods soon. The last paragraph was especially hopeful. Dreams have to be adjusted and regrets let go of to move forward. Here’s to forward movement. Cheers.
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Thanks, Marlene. I swear winter is sticking around like a bad guest. It snowed again last night, about 8 inches. I’m so tired of this winter. Sigh. Spring has got to be here soon. Cheers!
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You make me laugh every time, Jackie. A bad guest. π Spring showed up here today. Stink bugs and all. π¦ I did get out for a walk and moved more than usual. π More rain tomorrow. At least we had a break. It will show up there soon, promise.
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It’s suppose to be warmer after the weekend. So hopefully, Spring will come for a visit instead of winter. π
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Love this.
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thanks Mer. β€
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Sounds like you’re in my world. Sand slipping through your fingers. Reminds me of that saying youth is wasted on the young.
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Yeah, I’m in your world, Kim. And that saying is so true.
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Wonderful and deep poem, Jackie. I had a period of several years in my early 40s when I had this strong feeling that I was standing by the wayside and watching life happen, and not really participating in it. I guess that’s when I realized I was no longer young and that the time is limited.
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Yes, that’s what I feel. Time is limited and I wasted so much of it.
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