(for Tom) Recourseless Regrets

[tectak]

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Isn’t it a lovely day to sit upon this bench,
day old bread from my bag to birds do I dispense.
my graying hair gone yellow now,the parts that still are there.
I suppose I hear well enough with this contraption in my ear.
Yes, it’s a lovely, lovely day although slightly overcast,
keeps the sun from melting my skin, this flaky dried out wax.
It’s really such a lovely day enough to make one sigh,
or as the Indians would say, “It is a good day to die.”
But there are no battles now not one in which to die,
I do fight battles constantly, my confusion with a sigh,
but, there’s no honor in wrestling with half a half wit mind,
that some-when way back there, left half itself behind.
It really is a quite lovely day with pollen covered trees,
the bees are out collecting sweets, but all I do is sneeze,
which makes me ache even more as I’m sitting here,
some times it gets the best of me the pain each day more clear.
It makes me think of living another five or so more years,
That wouldn’t be appreciated by my children much, yes, that much is clear.
They’re fearful that I will spend all that money that I’ve slaved to save,
cause in their minds it’s already theirs, they’re just waiting for that day.
They’re so certain these children, they never stop to consider,
how they’ll feel, when I am stiff with mortis-de-rigor.
They’re so consumed with acquisition working sunup till late at night,
and if they chance their spouse to meet their greeting is a fight.
You know I miss my wife in ways I never thought I would,
I realize only now that what we had was really good.
God bless her soul I should have gone then too,
now I just sit here with nothing left to do.
I do have one desire though it may come out a bit oddly,
if I had my druthers in this I’d take a twenty years old body.
Oh to be able to run and sport without this pain and wheezing,
and making love anywhere just as easy as breathing.
Old folks because of pride we make ourselves all liars,
but miss the passion, yes we do and that burning desire,
that for years has been gone, though I’m not at all sure when,
but this I tell you, when it started was the start of the end.
Oh yes, let me trade for a newer model this tired and worn out one,
this time I’d not wear it out working from sun to sun,
I’d use those fresh young limbs and really have some fun.
I tell you I would do much to pay back and recompense
for wasting that wonderful gift and killing exuberance.
Yes I’m old enough now to know but the knowledge does no good,
If I had strong young legs, I’d run, you can bet I would!
I’d savor every moment I was filled with desire,
instead of trying to blow it out I would stoke that fire higher.
Yes, I crave the young bodies I see walk past everyday,
and if I could I’d kidnap one and with in it run away.
Then I’d let my passions fire and come and move my limbs,
each second I’d live three times over and cherish each of them.
So if you’re young and depressed as the young are apt to do,
I’d be happy, more than you know, to trade my body with you.


©2014 –Erthona

Note: All children mentioned in this poem are fictional and are the result of literary license.

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I know how to piss you off even more than the poor sod in this piece...are you ready?
I love it!
But:
So if you’re young and depressed as the young are apt to be,
you should consider swapping bodies with an optimist... like me.

meh.
Best,
tectak