I confused all my priorities, my needs were always last;
and now I'm left to mourn my loss, the time already past.
But grief itself is such a waste, for time will not stand still;
so I must focus on the Spring, and not the Winter chill.
The pain is now more tolerable, the flesh begins to heal;
but the ugly scar a cruel reminder, the body has lost appeal.
So I must reassess my life, and take a different stance;
for life is far too precious, to risk it all to chance.
There are no more ambitions, or hasty deadlines to meet,
I take each day with the joys at hand, to make my life complete.
I found the simplest pleasures, I know were always there;
the sky, the flowers, the birds, the trees, and walking in the clean fresh air.
P. Coracas (C)
13.8.1998