Rosy Hue
When I look back through the rose shaded glass of the past
All hurts are forgotten as if expunged in gentler reminiscences.
The jibes and cuts of the bullies tongue and fist
Or the strangled loves of adolescence
Where like a hook caught fish would wriggle with embarrassment
And shed tears of self destruction
To think the world would end because of one rejection.
Of the loss of friends through death or the vicissitudes of life
And all the failures big and small; of which I suppose are many.
Yet the me whose here to look down the road, would not be, if not for these.
Yet though sometimes I regret the things not done
And pine goals not yet reached.
I wouldn't have missed the journey for the world.
I am maybe no more a wiser man but I'm certain more content.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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