Procrastination, the mother of all
regrets
It met me one lazy Sunday afternoon
The smoke rising from the butt of cigarettes
The glasses empty from some old red
wine
Memories erased slowly by the
passing time
Of attempts to build dreams I had
once dreamt
Of fulfilling promises I had once
made
Of growing up to be the man she’d
wanted me to be
I was her only hope, my mother
always told me
But I had failed her, as much as
fate had failed me
My darkest fears growing on me
Of having to live and die each day,
With no dreams of tomorrow and no
memories of yesterday
No job was ever good enough, my
passion I could never find
A battered soul knocking doors was
all that was left behind
I should have been stronger, I tell
myself now
Should have embraced a truthful
today than an elusive tomorrow
The years that are behind which
were once in my hand
Silently they kept slipping, like
the wind sweeps the sand
I continue to wait, but this time
only for the end
This wait seems the longest for God’s
Angels to descend