Could we but travel back in time
And speak the words unsaid,
To ponder the road not taken
And the place it might have led.
The past is like a window;
On the outside looking in
We see where we have ventured
Not where we may have been.
Often a journey wearies and wends
As we never intended it to;
Too late we learn there's no return
From the land of did not do.
So be content with blessings sent
On the path we chose to trod
And know it was the better way
We put our trust in God.
Bruce Fabian Mancevice
Gloucester
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