I never had the chance I wanted,
never got the breaks — not me —
seldom saw the sights so vaunted,
not blue moon nor raging sea.
Chances passed me by refused
by casual indifference on my part
things I might have had or used
left by the wayside, beside my heart.
Coldness was my song of life
chill my days and my hardened ways
abandoned children and my wife
that I might stand between the stays.
Regrets do not become a man
who chose freely and without regard
for others' course or greater plan
and walked away without a word.
Still, I would do it better now
if chance to choose anew was mine
I'd turn my back and to fate I'd bow
tend my vinyard, sip my wine.
I leave so little, it must sadly be…
nor brag to any of mighty deeds.
The days of choice are far behind me,
but still I smile at what I've seen.