some decisions are so worth weighing that we spend a lifetime not making them

some decisions are so worth weighing that we spend a lifetime not making them
This isn’t my neighborhood anymore;
This isn’t the place where I start each day –
Habitual turn to come up this street
I lost awhile back when we moved away
But we raised our kids in a house back there,
And what seemed important then now seems small:
The hopes that we had, and the agonies –
They, none of them now, seem to matter at all
And as I drive by, I feel shuddering,
As though the last ghost just passed through my door:
It, all of it now, has just flown away —
This isn’t my neighborhood
Anymore
when time won't help, forgetting hides her face among the reeds and brambles and the cold comes hard
she broke out in fragility,
twas written on her face –
the best of her ability
was covered, just in case
the last romance of circumstance
should ever come to call –
(one should not have a viewing
of this type of thing at all)
the life of harboring her thoughts
seemed right and good and plenty –
she’d lived like this for many years,
since she was maybe twenty –
but dangerous as it might seem
she knew no other way
(if asked her own opinion
heaven knows what she might say)
and so the journey to regret
she boarded faithfully:
while taking careful notice of
the small press gallery
who sat and looked for others and
in silence passed her by;
she had a dim remembrance
of another day and time
where she would shine at times, and so
she shudders now and then –
before she became fragile
oh, the girl she might have been
and still might be if careless –
her own thoughts she might then quote –
but she broke out in fragile once
and that was all
she wrote
When she was almost young, she slept
Next to the fields of pure delight;
When she went almost out, she heard
Of secret pleasures in the night
When she felt almost love, she dreamed
Of freedom found in ecstasy —
Yes, when she almost lived, she lived
Just two doors down
From me
(“Almost” – 5-21-2017)
if i just could have seen the truth
and known the harm that i had done;
i might have fixed the things i broke –
i might have been a salvaged one –
but every day i broke your heart
and caused so much i missed distress;
if i just could have loved you more
and treasured you, and hurt you less
but that was far and long ago;
you changed your life to one of joy
and look back only with disgust
upon the man – the really, boy –
to whom you gave your very best
back when the sun was bright and young;
but now, i sit here in the dark
to see the thing that i’ve become
i’m glad for you, for you did right
escaping from me as you did;
i blustered on in selfishness
and callousness. i live amid
the wreckage that was once my life.
but i remember you, and see
and old man may at least regret
his asinine fatuity
for love will not knock on my door;
the sun will not come back again —
but please: young guys – protect your loves —
and grow old not as monsters, but
as men
The waves both come and go, but still
The shore seems much the same
As waves of guilt surround me now
But barely touch the blame
That I assign to one like me,
Who knew where truth began:
The needless hurt that can be caused
From not much of
A man
(“Another Kind of Price” – 3-14-2017)
She is the one who haunts him still
Though years have passed, as e’er they will,
Because he knew her worth, but chose
The easy way, when it arose
He’s looked, but cannot find her like,
And now he’s come to know, and rue:
That if you quit on love, sometimes,
You find that love can quit
On you
We want to see our flowers grow,
But somehow, don’t suspect
We won’t get buds of love,
When we have watered with
Neglect