Consequences

By the time you have climbed

Twenty five years or so

You will have three regrets

That consume all your time.

They will gang up and stare

At the edge of your bed

Locked together at the shoulder

When you think you’re asleep.

They’re a shadow made steeper

With age. I have been told

By the time that you’re old

They’re no closer to gone.

They grow taller and taller

Til shame is a wall.

Like a call you can’t make

Consequence covers all.

By the time you awake

To the bed that you’ve made,

They’ve lain down with you

Coating the covers

With dirt.

And it’s hard to see through it

Or know how to change it.

Surrender as though you will float

As they backfill the moat.