Few Regrets

I seem to be a man of few regrets.

Oh sure… I’d like to play the mandolin.

I tried once but since I’m no fan of Bluegrass

it seemed somewhat pointless at the time.

 

Oh sure…I’d like to be fluent in Spanish and Italian.

But when you go to Italy or Spain they all speak English.

In Peru I was understood just fine with what I know.

 

Oh sure…I’ve said a few things I’d like to take back.

Who hasn’t? We hear ourselves and think:

“How angry must I be to even think that?”

 

Oh sure…I’ve lost touch with some friends I knew.

Or maybe they lost touch with me. At least

I’ve always made an effort. They can find me easy enough.

 

Oh sure…I could have been better as a husband…as a father.

I could have asked more and not assumed I knew the answer.

I could have said more, too.

 

I seem to be a man of few regrets.

Some speak of a heavy burden of regret. 

What we did or didn’t…what we do.

I read Joseph Conrad — there are plenty regrets there.    

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