And, when I look back in the past and see
The chances that I missed along the way,
A cloud of sadness sinks on top of me
And soaks me up inside thick folds of grey.
And then I look to neither left nor right
But focus on the narrow path ahead,
That’s fading in the disappearing light,
And wish that I were somewhere else, instead –
A flowered field beside a singing stream,
Where unicorns are wont to come to graze,
Or, else, a seashore, where the breakers gleam,
And mermaids fix their hair in luscious ways.
And yet I’m left to face the world I’m in,
In spite of all of that which might have been.
Photo by Mark Harpur on Unsplash
Escapism
