For all the roads—I did not take
For all the choices—I did not make
For all the tears—I never cried
For all the times—I had to hide
For all the love—gained and lost
For all of living's bitter cost
For all calamities—abated
For all the hunger—never sated
For all the mountains—never climbed
For all the times—things would not rhyme
For all the bitterness—and sorrow
For all the hope—in each tomorrow
For all the times—I felt so free
For all the rare moments—I could be me
Some things are better left unsaid,
or, better yet—undone.
The times, when all the plans are laid,
it's best—to frolic in the sun.