Regrets are for a life not lived,
Not for chances that are gone.
A path that one just never took
Cannot evermore be known.

A door that opens in one’s life
Means another has just closed.
Behind closed doors we never see
But dreams can be supposed.

And while we dream about such loss
Reality is frozen
We then might miss the very paths
Behind the door we’ve chosen.

To tread true paths in any life
We must look where we are going.
Not stare into a wonderland
Of glimpses that are showing.

For every glimpse we think we see
Or story we are told
We miss the nugget on our path
That turns out to be gold.


~ by Anne Powles on August 8, 2017.

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