Every minute of every day
Rests a moment of decision.
Will we hail the choice we make
Or hold it in derision?
To say "It might have been"
Is a soul-anguished lament,
A profoundly felt apology
For how our time was spent
But oh to hold the contrary view
A feeling we can't restrain
When from the depths the words
Arise, "I'd do it all again”
February 2015
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